Here's a little horror story set in the Miskatonic River Valley- a family became lost in a maize maze and turned out to be a mere 25 feet from an exit. The funny thing about this incident is that it takes place in Lovecraft Country, and it echoes the plot of a Lovecraft collaboration, but the Lovecraft story it is reminiscent of is not set in Lovecraft Country.
Somehow, though, I think the Old Gent would be pleased...
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
Post Lecture Recap
Last night's Secret Science Club lecture was yet another tour-de-force- Wildlife Conservation Society landscape ecologist Dr. Eric Sanderson, author of Mannahatta: A Natural History of New York City, compiled extensive information about the landscape and ecology of the New York metropolitan area before Henry Hudson sailed the Half Moon up the river which now bears his name. While Mannahatta was concerned with the island of Manhattan, his new project is a reconstruction of the ecosystems of the all five boroughs of New York City. Taking it's name from a Lenape word meaning "my good home", the Welikia project is a ground-up approach to determine what the landscape of the city would have looked like had the European colonization and subsequent development (the Lenape did modify the landscape through their agricultural activities, but they tended to move around seasonally to exploit different food sources) not occurred.
The lecture centered on Manhattan, and began with a discussion of what has come to be known as the British Headquarters Map of 1782 (video is of a presentation by Dr. Sanderson), which depicted the topography of Manhattan in excruciating detail. Much of the topographic data in the Mannahatta Project came from this map. Data about the bedrock and soil types were used to extrapolate what sort of ecosystems would have been present in a particular region- for example, East Harlem was a grassland, and Foley Square was once a body of fresh water which came to be known as the Collect Pond. The Lenape had a settlement on the shore of the Collect Pond. The pond was eventually filled in, though the aroma of rotting vegetation ensured the the resultant neighborhood Five Points was a wretched hive of scum and villainy until it was razed, and the government center was built, making it a well-appointed hive of scum and villainy.
Most of the lecture dealt with the various features of the Welikia Project- the methodology used to compile the information, and the Muir Web (an exploration of the interconnectedness of all things, the name of which is inspired by John Muir's quote: "When we try to pick out anything by itself we find that it is bound fast by a thousand invisible cords that cannot be broken, to everything in the universe.") which, in many ways, forms the heart of the project. By figuring out the requirements for any particular species, one can extrapolate what other species would be present in a particular ecological community (Manhattan once had 55 separate ecological communities).
I'm a little pressed for time because I have to get my ass to work soon, but you should check out the Welikia Project website- I'm afraid to click on the interactive map, because it is bound to be a glorious time eater. The various layers of maps are gorgeous, and allow one to see what Times Square (for instance) would look like if it weren't the "crossroads of the world". I'm sure I'll be playing with the various map features as soon as I have time.
Just for the record, during the Q&A, some bastard asked about the prevalence of invasive species in the New York metro area, and about the return of the beaver to New York City. After the lecture, said bastard showed Dr. Sanderson some beaver pics he'd taken on the job, but that's the topic of a future post.
The lecture centered on Manhattan, and began with a discussion of what has come to be known as the British Headquarters Map of 1782 (video is of a presentation by Dr. Sanderson), which depicted the topography of Manhattan in excruciating detail. Much of the topographic data in the Mannahatta Project came from this map. Data about the bedrock and soil types were used to extrapolate what sort of ecosystems would have been present in a particular region- for example, East Harlem was a grassland, and Foley Square was once a body of fresh water which came to be known as the Collect Pond. The Lenape had a settlement on the shore of the Collect Pond. The pond was eventually filled in, though the aroma of rotting vegetation ensured the the resultant neighborhood Five Points was a wretched hive of scum and villainy until it was razed, and the government center was built, making it a well-appointed hive of scum and villainy.
Most of the lecture dealt with the various features of the Welikia Project- the methodology used to compile the information, and the Muir Web (an exploration of the interconnectedness of all things, the name of which is inspired by John Muir's quote: "When we try to pick out anything by itself we find that it is bound fast by a thousand invisible cords that cannot be broken, to everything in the universe.") which, in many ways, forms the heart of the project. By figuring out the requirements for any particular species, one can extrapolate what other species would be present in a particular ecological community (Manhattan once had 55 separate ecological communities).
I'm a little pressed for time because I have to get my ass to work soon, but you should check out the Welikia Project website- I'm afraid to click on the interactive map, because it is bound to be a glorious time eater. The various layers of maps are gorgeous, and allow one to see what Times Square (for instance) would look like if it weren't the "crossroads of the world". I'm sure I'll be playing with the various map features as soon as I have time.
Just for the record, during the Q&A, some bastard asked about the prevalence of invasive species in the New York metro area, and about the return of the beaver to New York City. After the lecture, said bastard showed Dr. Sanderson some beaver pics he'd taken on the job, but that's the topic of a future post.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Just Another Wimpy Synth Band?
It's 5:30 in the morning, and I am working a graveyard shift- I need an excuse to blast some music. In high school, a good friend of mine who was raised on his older brothers' Stones and Zappa records once excoriated me for being a big fan of Liverpool's Echo and the Bunnymen. Hearing the name of the band, he razzed me, "Echo and the Bunnymen, sounds like just another wimpy synth band." A few days later, a bunch of us were hanging out at a friend's house, watching this newfangled music-video channel, when this video came on:
"Wimpy synth band my ass!" was my rejoinder, as I smacked my friend upside the head.
The best thing about the video is that the audience looks a lot like lead singer Ian McCulloch, who looks a lot like Rick Hunter.
Hell, I think I need another blast of live Bunnymen, here's one of my all-time favorites, an epic seven-minute version of Do It Clean:
Yeah, that's pretty far from wimpiness, or synthetude, for that matter. Suffice it to say, the Bunnymen were badass!
NOTE: Please note that, in no way am I disparaging the Stones or Zappa.
"Wimpy synth band my ass!" was my rejoinder, as I smacked my friend upside the head.
The best thing about the video is that the audience looks a lot like lead singer Ian McCulloch, who looks a lot like Rick Hunter.
Hell, I think I need another blast of live Bunnymen, here's one of my all-time favorites, an epic seven-minute version of Do It Clean:
Yeah, that's pretty far from wimpiness, or synthetude, for that matter. Suffice it to say, the Bunnymen were badass!
NOTE: Please note that, in no way am I disparaging the Stones or Zappa.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The Persistent Visitor
I promised to write of a nice, though somewhat creepy loonie I had to deal with on the job on Saturday night. October is our major fundraising month, when visitors descend on us- we rely on the revenues from admission fees, the merchandise sales, and the effect that increased "door" has when it's time to apply for grant money. Suffice it to say, I have to deal with the public quite a lot throughout the month.
On Saturday night, we had a visitor who was a nondescript woman- she was of indeterminate age, small... the sort of individual you'd never notice in a crowd. She was very pleasant, and she turned out to be a barking loon. After a couple of hours of running around setting up for the influx of visitors, I ended up in the visitors' center/gift shop to help visitors (this usually involves telling them where they need to go) and to dissuade potential mischiefmakers through force of presence.
While holding court, the shop manager approached me and told me that one of the visitors had purchased $1300 worth of merchandise (yikes!) and needed help loading her purchases into her car. Unusual, but not an unreasonable request. I toted a half-dozen bags full of tchochkes (she'd also bought a couple of paintings which we had on consignment) to her SUV, which was full of all sorts of stuff. As I pondered where the hell to put the bags, she told me, "Don't worry, everything's clean." I made a joke about being the sort of person who regularly trudges through mud, so my definition of "clean" was pretty elastic. After we loaded her car, she told me that the shop manager had mentioned, in offhand fashion, that the artist who had painted the paintings she'd bought was at another event about ten miles from our present location. She asked me if I thought she'd be able to make it there before the event closed down, and I told her that the prognosis wasn't too good. We parted ways, for the time being (add ominous ellipses).
After the woman left, the shop manager told me that she'd left her bag in our gift shop. When she realized that she'd forgotten her bag, she called to say that she'd swing by in order to pick up the bag. Being the person who dots the i's and crosses the t's after an event, I had the dubious honor of waiting for her to return. All of the regular staff had left, and I was in the building with a half-dozen contract employees. One thought kept running through my head- "Hand off the bag in the parking lot, and whatever you do, don't let her into the building." After fifteen or twenty minutes of milling around, I got sick of wasting time, and started on the tasks that I needed to complete so as not to dick over my relief. I had to grab a sign from the road adjacent to our property, about six-hundred meters from the door to the building. Big mistake... as soon as I grabbed the sign, I spied her driving down the road, and realized that she would get to the door of the building before I did. I must have looked hilarious scuttling down the sidewalk carrying a "sandwich board".
When I got to the building, she was waiting outside. Damn, damn, damn, I had to open the door to get her bag. I get the door open, and hear the dreaded words, "Can I use the bathroom? I have to pee." Oh, double bing-bang hell, I really can't say without feeling like a heel.
She entered the bathroom, and I figure she'd be out in five minutes tops. Tick... tick... tick... what the fuck? Where the hell did she go? Did she fall in? Not being the sort to barge into the women's bathroom, I asked one of the contract employees if she would check the restroom. The visitor was in there shooting the breeze with one of the other contract employees... for what seemed like twenty minutes.
After she left the bathroom, a kitschy, overpriced ornament caught the woman's eye. One hundred bucks for a goofy, whimsical curio. She instantly fell in love with the damn thing.
"Can I buy it?"
"The sales staff has left for the night, and I can't do any sales."
"Can I give you the money?"
"I'm not authorized to handle sales, even if I were, the registers are closed." Are you nuts? The salespeople will see this thing missing, and a loose hundred dollar bill stuck under the till- I'd fire me for pulling a stunt like that!
"Can you leave a note on it telling the sales staff not to sell it?"
"I don't know who will be here, I don't know if our staff can reserve items." Lady, nobody is going to buy this piece of crap out from under you.
"Can I come tomorrow?"
"Sure, we open at 9:30 in the morning."
"Will I have time to go to church before coming in?" What the fuck? I don't know where you live, I don't know where your church is. I don't know if you go to one of those three-hour ecclesiastic extravaganzas every Sunday. Why would you even ask such a question?
"I'll be back tomorrow." Great, just fucking great, now please get out of here.
By this time, the lady had eaten up almost an hour of my time, and I still had shit to do so I didn't dump it in the lap of my relief. While she was unfailingly polite, I felt my soul being sucked out of my body slowly- my will to live was being sapped by the persistent inane inquiries. When she finally exited the building, I literally ran off into the night to get away from her. I had to go to an auxiliary parking lot to kill the lights, and I figured she wouldn't follow me down the darkened pedestrian walkway. Usually, the only thing I run is a tab, but this was one of those instances in which the "flight" response was appropriate.
As I write this, I have to note that the kitschy crap she was so concerned about buying still sits on the shelf.
On Saturday night, we had a visitor who was a nondescript woman- she was of indeterminate age, small... the sort of individual you'd never notice in a crowd. She was very pleasant, and she turned out to be a barking loon. After a couple of hours of running around setting up for the influx of visitors, I ended up in the visitors' center/gift shop to help visitors (this usually involves telling them where they need to go) and to dissuade potential mischiefmakers through force of presence.
While holding court, the shop manager approached me and told me that one of the visitors had purchased $1300 worth of merchandise (yikes!) and needed help loading her purchases into her car. Unusual, but not an unreasonable request. I toted a half-dozen bags full of tchochkes (she'd also bought a couple of paintings which we had on consignment) to her SUV, which was full of all sorts of stuff. As I pondered where the hell to put the bags, she told me, "Don't worry, everything's clean." I made a joke about being the sort of person who regularly trudges through mud, so my definition of "clean" was pretty elastic. After we loaded her car, she told me that the shop manager had mentioned, in offhand fashion, that the artist who had painted the paintings she'd bought was at another event about ten miles from our present location. She asked me if I thought she'd be able to make it there before the event closed down, and I told her that the prognosis wasn't too good. We parted ways, for the time being (add ominous ellipses).
After the woman left, the shop manager told me that she'd left her bag in our gift shop. When she realized that she'd forgotten her bag, she called to say that she'd swing by in order to pick up the bag. Being the person who dots the i's and crosses the t's after an event, I had the dubious honor of waiting for her to return. All of the regular staff had left, and I was in the building with a half-dozen contract employees. One thought kept running through my head- "Hand off the bag in the parking lot, and whatever you do, don't let her into the building." After fifteen or twenty minutes of milling around, I got sick of wasting time, and started on the tasks that I needed to complete so as not to dick over my relief. I had to grab a sign from the road adjacent to our property, about six-hundred meters from the door to the building. Big mistake... as soon as I grabbed the sign, I spied her driving down the road, and realized that she would get to the door of the building before I did. I must have looked hilarious scuttling down the sidewalk carrying a "sandwich board".
When I got to the building, she was waiting outside. Damn, damn, damn, I had to open the door to get her bag. I get the door open, and hear the dreaded words, "Can I use the bathroom? I have to pee." Oh, double bing-bang hell, I really can't say without feeling like a heel.
She entered the bathroom, and I figure she'd be out in five minutes tops. Tick... tick... tick... what the fuck? Where the hell did she go? Did she fall in? Not being the sort to barge into the women's bathroom, I asked one of the contract employees if she would check the restroom. The visitor was in there shooting the breeze with one of the other contract employees... for what seemed like twenty minutes.
After she left the bathroom, a kitschy, overpriced ornament caught the woman's eye. One hundred bucks for a goofy, whimsical curio. She instantly fell in love with the damn thing.
"Can I buy it?"
"The sales staff has left for the night, and I can't do any sales."
"Can I give you the money?"
"I'm not authorized to handle sales, even if I were, the registers are closed." Are you nuts? The salespeople will see this thing missing, and a loose hundred dollar bill stuck under the till- I'd fire me for pulling a stunt like that!
"Can you leave a note on it telling the sales staff not to sell it?"
"I don't know who will be here, I don't know if our staff can reserve items." Lady, nobody is going to buy this piece of crap out from under you.
"Can I come tomorrow?"
"Sure, we open at 9:30 in the morning."
"Will I have time to go to church before coming in?" What the fuck? I don't know where you live, I don't know where your church is. I don't know if you go to one of those three-hour ecclesiastic extravaganzas every Sunday. Why would you even ask such a question?
"I'll be back tomorrow." Great, just fucking great, now please get out of here.
By this time, the lady had eaten up almost an hour of my time, and I still had shit to do so I didn't dump it in the lap of my relief. While she was unfailingly polite, I felt my soul being sucked out of my body slowly- my will to live was being sapped by the persistent inane inquiries. When she finally exited the building, I literally ran off into the night to get away from her. I had to go to an auxiliary parking lot to kill the lights, and I figured she wouldn't follow me down the darkened pedestrian walkway. Usually, the only thing I run is a tab, but this was one of those instances in which the "flight" response was appropriate.
As I write this, I have to note that the kitschy crap she was so concerned about buying still sits on the shelf.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Canadian Thanksgiving and Columbus Day
Today marks the celebration of Thanksgiving in Canada, the mysterious land to the north of the United States. Canadians are interesting- they are a lot like the citizens of the United States, but there are subtle, sometimes eerie, differences. One difference between Canadians and U.S.ers is the choice of bird eaten on Thanksgiving... in the U.S., the traditional centerpiece of the Thanksgiving is a turkey, while Canadians typically roast a loon for their Thanksgiving meal.
Uh, just kidding folks- I have a lot of Canadians on the blogroll, ranging from Ontario to British Columbia (C'mon Maritimers and Newfoundlanders, come out of hiding so I can get coast-to-coast coverage of your nation!). Happy Thanksgiving, jim, MenD, Laura, D-KW, SMcG, interrobang, and all other Canadians. This Canadian Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for Canadians- you folks are great!
Today is also Columbus Day, the day in which Italian-Americans celebrate their heritage. This pains me to say, because my paternal grandfather's parents emigrated from the Greater Genoa Metropolitan Area, but Columbus, the most famous child of Genoa, was pretty much a horrible person. Yeah, his accomplishments were many, but he was, in many ways, responsible for a legacy of appropriation of land, extirpation of cultures, and genocide. I think that Garibaldi might be a better exemplar of Italian achievements in the Americas- he even lived on Staten Island for a period of time. Whether or not you disagree with me about commemorating Columbus, you pretty much have to agree with me about cannoli. Cannoli are awesome- whenever it is an option, take the cannoli. I'll be celebrating my heritage with pride, but I'll be showing my allegiances by wearing a red shirt.
CONFESSION TIME: The red shirt also hides the tomato sauce stains...
Uh, just kidding folks- I have a lot of Canadians on the blogroll, ranging from Ontario to British Columbia (C'mon Maritimers and Newfoundlanders, come out of hiding so I can get coast-to-coast coverage of your nation!). Happy Thanksgiving, jim, MenD, Laura, D-KW, SMcG, interrobang, and all other Canadians. This Canadian Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for Canadians- you folks are great!
Today is also Columbus Day, the day in which Italian-Americans celebrate their heritage. This pains me to say, because my paternal grandfather's parents emigrated from the Greater Genoa Metropolitan Area, but Columbus, the most famous child of Genoa, was pretty much a horrible person. Yeah, his accomplishments were many, but he was, in many ways, responsible for a legacy of appropriation of land, extirpation of cultures, and genocide. I think that Garibaldi might be a better exemplar of Italian achievements in the Americas- he even lived on Staten Island for a period of time. Whether or not you disagree with me about commemorating Columbus, you pretty much have to agree with me about cannoli. Cannoli are awesome- whenever it is an option, take the cannoli. I'll be celebrating my heritage with pride, but I'll be showing my allegiances by wearing a red shirt.
CONFESSION TIME: The red shirt also hides the tomato sauce stains...
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Fell in a Dungheap...
Came out smelling like a rose beer.
After my volunteer gig/work extravaganza, I have to confess I slept until noon today. When it's a dreary, cold day, sleeping until noon is one of the great luxuries in which one can indulge. Today, however, it was a sunny, summery day (mid-80's Fahrenheit), so I felt a minor pang of guilt in sleeping in on such a glorious day.
When I finally got my ass in gear, I decided to take a long walk on the path by the Bronx River Parkway. After getting the blood moving, I stopped by to patronize the local ice cream vendor, who I have known for years. While buying my "toasted almond" popsicle, I ran into an old friend and former housemate, my great and good friend **REDACTED**, a guy who I have known since high school, who was one of my housemates in the infamous "beach house without an ocean". Hail and well met, old chum! He was meeting another old friend and former housemate at a bar which had recently opened- Growlers Beer Bistro in Tuckahoe, NY.
Upon arriving at the bar, we discovered that the owners were throwing a fundraiser for a friend who'd come on hard times. Twenty bucks for unlimited pints of Brooklyn Brown Ale and Lagunitas IPA, along with a couple of absurdly large sandwiches (chicken cutlets, FTW!). To put it succinctly, Christmas came early! The unexpected Big Beer Nights are the best Big Beer Nights, especially when they start in the afternoon, and are well-nigh ridiculously inexpensive.
I'm a little beery even now, after having downed a couple of cups of coffee, but I promise to write of the extremely nice, but sorta creepy lunatic I had to deal with last night. I think the story is worth it, but I need some time to write the post.
After my volunteer gig/work extravaganza, I have to confess I slept until noon today. When it's a dreary, cold day, sleeping until noon is one of the great luxuries in which one can indulge. Today, however, it was a sunny, summery day (mid-80's Fahrenheit), so I felt a minor pang of guilt in sleeping in on such a glorious day.
When I finally got my ass in gear, I decided to take a long walk on the path by the Bronx River Parkway. After getting the blood moving, I stopped by to patronize the local ice cream vendor, who I have known for years. While buying my "toasted almond" popsicle, I ran into an old friend and former housemate, my great and good friend **REDACTED**, a guy who I have known since high school, who was one of my housemates in the infamous "beach house without an ocean". Hail and well met, old chum! He was meeting another old friend and former housemate at a bar which had recently opened- Growlers Beer Bistro in Tuckahoe, NY.
Upon arriving at the bar, we discovered that the owners were throwing a fundraiser for a friend who'd come on hard times. Twenty bucks for unlimited pints of Brooklyn Brown Ale and Lagunitas IPA, along with a couple of absurdly large sandwiches (chicken cutlets, FTW!). To put it succinctly, Christmas came early! The unexpected Big Beer Nights are the best Big Beer Nights, especially when they start in the afternoon, and are well-nigh ridiculously inexpensive.
I'm a little beery even now, after having downed a couple of cups of coffee, but I promise to write of the extremely nice, but sorta creepy lunatic I had to deal with last night. I think the story is worth it, but I need some time to write the post.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Ghost Who Haunts the Downstairs Apartment
This time of year, I tend to be scarce- on a typical Saturday, I leave the house by 8AM and don't get home until 1AM Sunday (potential burglars, I don't have anything in the apartment worth stealing- the only thing I have worth stealing is on my person, being typed on). I am pretty much the ghost who haunts the first floor.
Today, I left the house around eight and drove down to the vicinity of Gaelic Park, where I usually park to catch the 1 train to midtown Manhattan for my volunteer gig. There was construction on the elevated tracks, so I had to take a shuttle bus to 207th St in Manhattan to catch the A Train. It took me an hour to get to midtown, and I arrived just in time for the first class.
Once I got to my destination, all inconvenience disappeared- I was among close friends, doing productive work. Since the kids were kinda rusty (and not Rusty in a groundbreaking way), we had them practice ukemi for a while, then went over the basic grip, having the kids practice kuzushi- unbalancing techniques. We had two classes, then I had to shower up, power up, and start to wend my way back to the Bronx, so I could drive to work. I'm writing this in a library close to my place of employment, and plan on grabbing a couple of slices of pizza before punching the clock.
It's a gorgeous day- sunny, with temperatures in the 70s- motivating myself to leave the house was easy, and I walked inside with a bit of a pang (of course, this is just a five minute stop). Thankfully, I'll be working outside today- I have to run around performing those last minute tasks which are crucial on nights when we'll have a few thousand visitors, then go on standby during the course of the event. After the event, I have to run around shutting things down and locking things up... I'm the i-dotter and t-crosser on nights like these. The one thing I really dislike about this time of year is the extreme fluctuation of temperature- I have to dress for seventy and I have to dress for forty... what a pain in the tuchis! I'll be dragging my ass when I get home, the yerba mate only takes one so far.
Yeah, that's my typical Saturday in the fall- I should look into doing one-day subletting of apartment to pick up some extra moolah.
Today, I left the house around eight and drove down to the vicinity of Gaelic Park, where I usually park to catch the 1 train to midtown Manhattan for my volunteer gig. There was construction on the elevated tracks, so I had to take a shuttle bus to 207th St in Manhattan to catch the A Train. It took me an hour to get to midtown, and I arrived just in time for the first class.
Once I got to my destination, all inconvenience disappeared- I was among close friends, doing productive work. Since the kids were kinda rusty (and not Rusty in a groundbreaking way), we had them practice ukemi for a while, then went over the basic grip, having the kids practice kuzushi- unbalancing techniques. We had two classes, then I had to shower up, power up, and start to wend my way back to the Bronx, so I could drive to work. I'm writing this in a library close to my place of employment, and plan on grabbing a couple of slices of pizza before punching the clock.
It's a gorgeous day- sunny, with temperatures in the 70s- motivating myself to leave the house was easy, and I walked inside with a bit of a pang (of course, this is just a five minute stop). Thankfully, I'll be working outside today- I have to run around performing those last minute tasks which are crucial on nights when we'll have a few thousand visitors, then go on standby during the course of the event. After the event, I have to run around shutting things down and locking things up... I'm the i-dotter and t-crosser on nights like these. The one thing I really dislike about this time of year is the extreme fluctuation of temperature- I have to dress for seventy and I have to dress for forty... what a pain in the tuchis! I'll be dragging my ass when I get home, the yerba mate only takes one so far.
Yeah, that's my typical Saturday in the fall- I should look into doing one-day subletting of apartment to pick up some extra moolah.
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