Guns, Germs, and Steel and nonfiction in general

Currently listening to Grover Gardner reading Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel as a foray into nonfiction. From the summary the author himself gave in the opening chapters, it looks like it's going to be a fascinating take on (pre)history, tracing the "broadest patterns" that resulted in Eurasian dominance. Why was it that Eurasians were the ones to get their hands on guns, germs, and steel before anyone else, and hence were able to subsequently conquer and dominate most of the rest of the world? Diamond puts forth that it has to do, ultimately, with many factors rooted in prehistory, and not just proximate or immediate factors, which are, roughly speaking, the guns, germs and steel themselves. For example, in these past few chapters, he has been making a case for the favorable flora and fauna situation in Eurasia leading to an earlier shift in that continent from hunting and gathering into raising crops and domesticating animals. Which, in turn, of course, led to all the developments that comprise what we now usually term "civilization" with its (when you think about it) staggeringly complex relations and hierarchies and technologies.

What other works of nonfiction have you enjoyed lately or would you recommend? I'm interested in broadening my knowledge, and so works from any field, as long as they are interesting or worthwhile, are very welcome. Please leave a comment, thanks!

>RIDE COW:

He realizes that he has had enough of carrying that Retarded Cow around, and throws it down to the ground in a fit of rage. He goes over to that cow, and after he has gone over to the cow, why, he sits on it and takes it by the horns as if they were handlebars. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the cow in question is a stuffed cow, and though it does not buck him off and facilitate a gory, untimely death, neither will it actually take him anywhere. It does not even make for a comfortable seat.

He stands up and furtively kicks the stupid cow off the road to disappear forever.

[ALERTS: Jomel Imperio has lost a friend. 

Jomel Imperio has gained the status Mean to Retards, reducing his Karma by 5x his Compassion.]

So you want to be a writer?

(Charles Bukowski)

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

***  

I've seen this before as a young(er) writer-wannabe, and boy did it hit me hard. I didn't have any passion, I felt, and was only deluding myself based on some facility with the language and a love of reading. Now that I look at it again I become convinced that he was actually kidding, saying "Boo!" to newer writers while sending a slier wink/nudge to writers who have already earned their salt. Of course, I don't belong to the latter camp, not by a long shot, but still I feel somewhat relieved. 

Being a writer isn't always about just being the medium for almost supernatural inspiration (unless you were one of the authors of the Bible?), but also, sometimes, about working hard at this thing you want (desperately or not) to get right.

P.S. Second Bio 11 exam tomorrow. Too lazy to do any more studying. Maybe later again. I have to admit, though, I have never thought before that plants could be interesting. Just think about it, they're alive, but not sentient, or even mobile! Getting a closer look at all the processes involved and how their cells, tissues, and organs are organized just reinforces the creepiness, on some level I can't adequately explain right now, but has to do with the order emerging from the collusion of the (seemingly) blind, unintelligent behavior of tinier and tinier parts. (For all we know, Durkon could be right.)

My mission in life will be:

Bringing together (at the very least in my head) different disciplines: science, writing, art, philosophy, experience. Becoming something more than a professional dilettante, although that's undoubtedly going to be an intermediate step. In other words, as per this article, becoming an intellectual instead of an academic.

But, also, learning to live with others by first learning to live with myself. 

In a word, synthesis.

(Bow.)

Okay, so that was a little more serious than usual, so to silly things up a little:

(Second in the series of illustrations. This one's for this and this.)

Hey, self.

Today, you presented a 196 seminar, had a triple-espresso cappuccino while talking about the final happy days of college, attended a Phi Kappa Phi recognition ceremony in a barong and slacks and tappity black leather shoes, then had your first ever meal at Conti's, which turned out to have quite a good taste-to-price ratio. In the evening, you were too lazy to do anything of import, even though you had some raket work to be done. Screw that, it was much easier to be lazy, what an achiever you were. You truly deserved the recognition of an international honors society, self. 

View inventory, health:

[ALERT: Jomel Imperio has gained proficiency in: Biking.]

He is carrying (sorted in reverse order of acquisition):

a wet, smelly shirt [worn, auto-discard in 10 turns]

a Hard W.D. Disk [80% left]

a talisman of Koss' Auricular Invasion

a G-2 Pen [working]

a G-2 Pen [! wrong refill !]

Blank Scrolls

a Retarded Cow

a Small Blue Entity with One Tear on Its Cheek

4 Rosaries of varying Provenance

no Bikes

no Money no Gold no Zenny no Honey

He has 75% (192/256) health points and 50% (50/100) mental points due to the following effects:

Blistercalluses of the Novice Biker [150 turns left]

Soremuscles of Exertion [100 turns left]

Esguerra's Preoccupation [1400 turns left]

Senioritis [3000+ turns left]

View status? (y/n/q)

Jomel Imperio is currently 20 years, 6 months, and 21 days old, stands 172 cm tall, and weighs about as much as 23 middling-sized Infants.

He is Enrolled in the Bachelor of Science in Physics program at the National Institute of Physics, University of the Philippines Diliman, and will be until April 2009. He is undertaking 1 quest and has 0 quests in his Life Queue. He can take on 0 more quests until the next Experience Level.

He is in a Relationship that has been going on for 2 years, 11 months, and 5 days.

He is highly skilled in Test Taking, Procrastination, Omphaloskepsis, Underachievement, Fuddling, and Ulterior Design. He is moderately skilled in Physics, Math (Non-rigorous), Writing (SEO), Writing (Creative), Doodlecrafting, Getting Inebriated, and Music Appreciation. He is barely proficient in Motivation, Programming, Fashion, Conversation (Normal), and Self-Evaluation.

He has 18 friends*, 0 enemies, and <100 acquaintances. 

*You know what they say: if you have to ask, you're not on the list.

For your consideration: an illustrated prose excerpt.

So I've been trying to get myself used to doing creative work such as doodling and writing, and have been doing so by working on small pieces. Doodles, (very) short prose excerpts, and so on. Eventually, I should be able to build my stamina and be able to tackle more ambitious works (illustrations? actual stories?), right?

So anyway, this prose excerpt and this doodle go together, okay? Here they are.

The dog did not seem to be too happy about being stuck on the seat of the chair beside me, fairly high above the ground, and made its discomfort known by cowering and refusing to respond to any of my advances. It didn’t seem to see anything but the ground so far down, maybe its beady eyes could not handle the bright morning sunshine, or did it know something I did not? I had to stop myself from standing up and looking around. What was I coming to, getting the jitters from a furry little puppy?

The house was silent, and I should have been relieved, after all, I was alone. Left alone again to mind the house while everyone else’s lives took them elsewhere on this fine cloudless weekend. A real lull of a Sunday this was turning out to be, but I was not complaining. A veteran of lulls, I already knew that the fastest way to make the situation worse would be to start finding things to complain about. So despite not having the faintest idea of what I wanted to do that day, there I was sunning myself on the porch with the poor shivering dog. I did not feel like doing anything at all.

The past week had passed quietly by. I had ceased to mind the featurelessness of each day a long time ago. Of course I could have quite easily recalled what I had at every meal for the past seven days, give or take a salad here or there, but cosmetic differences aside, every day had been, and seemed poised to continue to be, like the last. Imagine a wall, high enough to hide the other side from sight. Extend one arm until the tips of your fingers brush against the stone, walk and keep walking with your hand touching the wall, and there you would have most of my life. There were times when I thought I was bound to at least find an opening, a crack, or even at least find out what sort of shape the wall was bounding, but it curved so slowly - if it even did! - as to seem straight. So I never did find anything. It seemed that the act itself of tracing a hypothetical wall was enough for me.

So immersed was I in thought that the first few yips caught me off guard and had me wondering for a while what they were. That mound of fur, of course, every puppy eventually finds their voice when they need to, no matter how tiny. I had no choice but to take him back inside. I supposed he had gotten too used to the cool and the dark, and true enough, once I had set him back down on the floor he stopped his yipping and scurried off to huddle in a corner. I decided I might as well fix myself a sandwich, it did not seem like anyone was coming home soon.

"Gimik" with Ateneo boys

Okay, so maybe it's just our particular group, but whenever we go out it's usually just for a meal and a movie. Maybe with a few hours of DotA (network gaming) thrown in. It's odd to realize that we've never gone drinking, even though we probably individually go drinking with our respective college groups, etc. We should try it out before Amarra leaves in May. (thinking)

So today was not much different from usual. DotA (which we suck at now), Benjamin Button (which was good but long-ish), dinner, dessert. Good, clean fun.

ALSO: Second snippet up at my word-tumblr. Click.

Valiant Dross: 1

I liked the Tumblr interface well enough to create a new one (link), to be filled with words instead of doodles like my first one (link). Reposting the first valiantdross entry here, for now.

***

1

The dog did not seem to be too happy about being stuck on the seat of the chair beside me, fairly high above the ground, and made its discomfort known by cowering and refusing to respond to any of my advances. It didn't seem to see anything but the ground so far down, maybe its beady eyes could not handle the bright morning sunshine, or did it know something I did not? I had to stop myself from standing up and looking around. What was I coming to, getting the jitters from a furry little puppy?

The house was silent, and I should have been relieved, after all, I was alone. Left alone again to mind the house while everyone else's lives took them elsewhere on this fine cloudless weekend. A real lull of a Sunday this was turning out to be, but I was not complaining. A veteran of lulls, I already knew that the fastest way to make the situation worse would be to start finding things to complain about. So despite not having the faintest idea of what I wanted to do that day, there I was sunning myself on the porch with the poor shivering dog. I did not feel like doing anything at all.

The past week had passed quietly by. I had ceased to mind the featurelessness of each day a long time ago. Of course I could have quite easily recalled what I had at every meal for the past seven days, give or take a salad here or there, but cosmetic differences aside, every day had been, and seemed poised to continue to be, like the last. Imagine a wall, high enough to hide the other side from sight. Extend one arm until the tips of your fingers brush against the stone, walk and keep walking with your hand touching the wall, and there you would have most of my life. There were times when I thought I was bound to at least find an opening, a crack, or even at least find out what sort of shape the wall was bounding, but it curved so slowly - if it even did! - as to seem straight. So I never did find anything. It seemed that the act itself of tracing a hypothetical wall was enough for me.

So immersed was I in thought that the first few yips caught me off guard and had me wondering for a while what they were. That mound of fur, of course, every puppy eventually finds their voice when they need to, no matter how tiny. I had no choice but to take him back inside. I supposed he had gotten too used to the cool and the dark, and true enough, once I had set him back down on the floor he stopped his yipping and scurried off to huddle in a corner. I decided I might as well fix myself a sandwich, it did not seem like anyone was coming home soon.

Thirty people meme

From birthdaymate and org president Racine.

Instructions:
* Next to each number, write the name of the person who fits the description.
* Answer one question with one name.
* Don't reveal the questions to anyone who isn't doing the meme.
Those who want to know what the questions are must do the meme on their own blogs.

1. Mayraluna Lao
2. Anthony Amarra
3. Raj Olympia
4. Nadi Abubakar
5. Samantha Hautea
6. Michael Solis
7. I... don't know any of these people.
8. Raj Olympia
9. Jeanne Arroyo
10. Rica Mercado
11. Marge Maallo
12. Angela Beatriz Imperio, especially in the future
13. I... don't know any of these people either.
14. Bei Suarez
15. Aragorn Inocencio
16. Bill Cabal
17. AD Alarilla
18. Kate Dy
19. Mikhail Solon
20. Dr. Perry Esguerra
21. I don't know...
22. ...what these two questions mean, sorry.
23. Dr. Perry Esguerra
24. Again, I don't think I know any of these people. (I don't know a lot of people, apparently.)
25. Jomel Imperio
26. Jomel Imperio
27. Jesus Christ
28. Anthony Amarra
29. Jeanne Arroyo
30. Don't worry, be happy.

Okay, another doodle in lieu of an update. Am sleepy. Is all right.

Don't we all feel like this, sometimes?

Puppies!

We have two new puppies, a brown one (no breed, but still a nice chocolate-y color), and a shih tzu. Well, to be honest, we don't exactly have the greatest track record with dogs (they tend to die of sickness, injury, or old age), and zero experience with training them. 

I'm hoping I or someone else will finally drum up some enthusiasm for caring for our new dogs. They're such cute little things!

Okay, to pre-empt requests for pictures, here are some dogs that kind of sort of look like them:

A man-goose, horse-dinosaur, dog, cat in a hat, rat, some hands, a "house", a "wall", etc.

(Slightly bigger copy up here.)

***

Got grad pics today! (Check out my contact prints here if you haven't seen them yet.) They turned out okay enough, although my hair was still in the process of growing out from having been shaved a few months before, hence the gelled 'do. 

Any more takers? I've already exchanged pictures with some people, and now I only have, oh. Huh. Only one creative shot photo left for giving away. (Haha, ang cheap ko kasi, dapat kinuha ko na yung mas maraming prints.) This one:

Come and get it, people! :D 

In which I talk about five different things.

1. My diet, some thoughts on greens

It's been a week since I started keeping track of what I eat in a Google Calendar. I think I've been mostly successful at 1) eating more fruits and vegetables (and less meat), 2) eating smaller portions, and 3) eating more often. I have also been drinking more water, not that I've been drinking too little in the past. Now I haven't yet begun keeping track of my weight, and in any case I doubt a mere week would have had an effect already. 

One simple thing that really helps me eat more healthily is keeping some salad greens handy. At about seventy pesos per prewashed bag of mixed greens, it may seem pricey, but each bag lasts a long time (especially if you're the only one eating them!), up to a week. Beats the hassle of buying separate heads of different greens, washing them, making sure they don't wilt, etc. 

As to eating them, it's easy enough to toss together a salad, or put them on a simple sandwich, and so on. For instance, savory meat dishes such as caldereta, menudo, and the like go great with whole wheat bread, a bed of greens, and a drizzle of spicy vinegar. (Or am I just being weird?)

2. Exercise (or the lack thereof)

But I'm still not exercising. That first step in resuming exercise from a long period of inactivity is always the hardest.

3. Work (or the lack thereof)

Neither have I made much additional progress on my thesis (the first draft of which is due in seven weeks), or my seminar presentation (due in three weeks EDIT: two weeks!). What's worse is that I haven't been doing anything else. I don't have any justification for my lack of productivity except the rather thin one of having a hangover from the holidays. 

I haven't been doing anything but churning out those horrible money-grubbing articles every few days. I might not have done even that if they didn't have three-day deadlines, and without the looming threat of the thesis deadline to procrastinate about.

4. Patterns

Food, check. Lack of exercise, check. Lack of productivity, check. Now all this entry needs is a healthy dose of griping and airing out of frustrations, and I'd've covered everything I usually talk about!

5. Jose Saramago's The Cave

Oh, before I forget, I at least have the consolation of having read a good book recently: The Cave by Jose Saramago. On the surface, okay, it's an allegory of Big Capitalism trampling upon the aging Traditional Craftsman, but that's far from the main point. 

Saramago demonstrates here once again his grasp of the rhythms of dialogue and internal monologue as he employs his trademark page-spanning sentences and stream-of-consciousness prose to great effect. He takes the reader on a slow, sympathetic journey through an old potter, Cipriano Algor's, attempts to come to terms with life's inevitable changes. In the process we meet the few people (and a dog) that make up his family and small social circle, and are caught up in their concerns and relationships.

So, nothing much happens, but you do end up caring about how the characters handle and react to what little does.

All in a day's work.

I have realized that no words will summarize this day nearly as well as this picture.

Also today I drew a lot of different tiny cells that make up different stem cross sections, and I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed working on root cross sections last meeting. That moment when you finally finish filling in all the spaces with cells of appropriate sizes and shapes, when the patterns you observed and then carefully copied and laid out finally pay off, that moment, my friends, is exactly the moment you find captured above.

(Bored? More doodles here.)

Yes, unfortunately for you, the author has been reading Saramago again, and, no, he is deeply sorry to admit, but he cannot help himself.

Okay, so perhaps blogging everyday wasn't such a great idea, after all, and I'm not saying that just because I missed another day, but also because, well, when I really think about it, for the most part, nothing much differentiates each day of my existence from the other but tiny fluctuations in the only trajectory allowed by the third law of thermodynamics, a death spiral of mediocrity ending in absolute zero. 

Well, perhaps I exaggerate a bit, sometimes the upward fluctuations can be uplifting enough to temporarily dull the steady ache of being, like how fifteen minutes of fireworks can make people forget for the moment that no matter how high their hopes are, changes for the better will always be more difficult than changes for the worse, and that someone always has to clean up the resulting debris, which is not to say that all debris is worthless, because while some debris represents nothing but necessary labor, other debris may well represent the shell of something once great from which that something may be, even if reconstruction is impossible, at least appreciated one last time.

In any case, I do not think I am depressed, nor am I feeling down, nor am I in any emotional state but regret-tinged acceptance, it must be just that, on those unfortunate occasions when the weather conspires with laziness and introspection and my mental circumstances, regret and frustration are stained and stand out much too clearly for my liking or for anybody's liking, I might venture, because, we need to face it, only those strong enough of will or blessed enough by the supernatural can realistically hope to gain anything from prolonged self-interrogation, and for the rest of us, fuddlers and befuddled all, what remains is simple to say but not always to do, which is, in a word, persist. Like hope.

Drat, I broke my streak. (Mundanities, a timely reminder)

I had been blogging everyday since... December 28, but I missed a day yesterday. I wasn't in the mood last night, even though I was just procrastinating on a batch of raket articles to be rewritten. (Which I need to finish this morning, but I'm still not feeling like it, blech. Which is why I'm blogging right now instead of doing them.)

Well, to start off with some mundanities, I've been somewhat successful at trying to improve my diet. I've started keeping a Google Calendar, and I'm noting down what I eat, which is rather effective at making me more aware of what exactly I put into my mouth. Eating less, more often, and also eating more plant parts like leaves and mature reproductive organs. Meat from sea animals, too, unless there isn't any available. More water.

However, still haven't gotten around to exercising again. It is thought in some camps that diet >> exercise in terms of losing weight, anyway, except in the case of severe caloric restriction where you'd have to exercise in order to keep your metabolism from slowing. But overall, exercise may just yield second order effects. I forget which article I read that in, hmm. (Excuses. It'd still be better for me to get some cardio to keep the hypertension at bay.)

Mundanities out of the way, Jeanne recently linked me to this article on Cosmic Variance: The Cult of Genius. Hmm, sounds suspiciously like one of the reasons why I'm not so keen at the moment on pursuing higher education/ an academic career in physics. 

During high school or college, many aspiring physicists latch onto Feynman or Einstein or Hawking as representing all they hope to become. The problem is, the vast majority of us are just not that smart. Oh sure, we’re plenty clever, and are whizzes at figuring out the tip when the check comes due, but we’re not Feynman-Einstein-Hawking smart. We go through a phase where we hope that we are, and then reality sets in, and we either (1) deal, (2) spend the rest of our career trying to hide the fact that we’re not, or (3) drop out. It’s always bugged the crap out of me that physicists’ worship of genius conveys the simultaneous message that if you’re not F-E-H smart, then what good are you? In physics recommendation land, there is no more damning praise than saying someone is a “hard worker”.

Well, screw that. Yes, you have to be clever, but if you have good taste in problems, an ability to forge intellectual connections, an eye for untapped opportunities, drive, and yes, a willingness to work hard, you can have major impacts on the field.

Oh, whew. I don't have drive, nor am I a hard worker (most of the time, anyway), so I guess my decision wasn't too presumptuous. 

And, in any case, I suspect that I'm only having ego issues seeing other people enjoying their physics more and doing better work than I do. Boo hoo hoo. Well, guess what, self, time to buck up and move on. Tapusin mo na muna ang thesis mo bago ka magpaka-soul-searching diyan.

Domesticities: Milk, a simple (naive?) salad recipe; also, a small thesis update.

Some brands of fresh milk ranked in order of tastiness (personally):

Arce (carabao milk) > Nestle Premium > Mon Milk (sadly gone) > Bear Brand > Anchor > Alaska

I have the suspicion that this would also turn out to be in order of decreasing fat content. Fatty milk is fatty, but yummy. Also, including carabao milk in the ranking is somewhat unfair, as it's both much more expensive and tasty/fatty.

I write this because I keep forgetting which brand of milk to get when I'm at the supermarket. I've also tried Cowhead, and Paul's, and the non-premium Nestle brands of milk, but those are too far in the past for me to be able to remember and rank them.

The latest milk I bought, Alaska, wasn't creamy enough to make a good latte. The resulting drink seemed a little too watery for my taste, but not terribly so, I suppose. Hum.

I bought a bag of prepackaged greens recently, in an attempt to get myself to eat more leaves. I thought we had a lot of (mayo-based, Kraft, I think) dressing left in the fridge, but it turns out the few bottles still there were almost out. So I had to improvise for merienda this afternoon.

Bowlful of greens (arugula, romaine, and something else), torn by hand into shreds; a few tablespoons of dalandan juice, which I used only because there was a jar of the stuff in the fridge; a little bangus-in-spicy-corn-oil oil; a little of the bangus; dash of sugar; pinch of salt. 

Rather basic, but it was easy and quite edible. The dressing was probably a little healthier than mayo-based dressing, too. Needed pepper, I don't know why I forgot to add some. Could've been tarter, too, maybe calamansi or cane vinegar would be better acids to use.

This could be an alternative way to eat Spanish-style sardines or tuna in spicy oil (I love those!) and increase my vegetable intake in the process.

In other news, I've finally gotten around to starting actually writing my thesis. Despite still not having any new results, I realized I may as well start incorporating what I do have (from previous years' participation in SPP conferences) into the thesis template. Two months to draft deadline! D:

Another day in the life: steak and other miscellaneous food items.

I needed to buy some milk and conditioner, so naturally I had to drag Jeanne along on a quest for juicy, inexpensive meat. Our search took us to Judge Jimenez, purveyor of meats, and the journey was long, yea, and many times did we have to undertake perilous crossings.

That is, we walked a lot again, from the GMA-Kamuning MRT station, down EDSA to Kamuning, and down Kamuning to J. Jimenez. The target was Snackaroo, whose tasty steaks I'd tried before when my brother took me there or brought some home. Of course, we could have taken buses or jeeps, but for some reason, those options usually seem more unappealing to us than just walking.

Snackaroo is one of those cheap, sticky-tabled places you only find out about through word of mouth. For such a small place, there were a lot of customers, and it probably gets even more hectic during peak hours. The star attractions are their charbroiled T-bone and porterhouse steaks. 

We were planning on having a T-bone each, but as luck would have it they were out, so we had a porterhouse each instead. (Not that we were entirely clear on the difference between the two. Are T-bones juicier?) Tasty steaks, especially considering the relatively light Php130 price tag. Their gravy's pretty good too, good enough to spoon into your mouth on its own, without shame.

We had heard about a Kopi Roti branch along nearby Tomas Morato, but since we had no real idea where along that long road it was, we wisely decided to leave that for another time.

That was pretty much it. We walked back to the MRT and went to Trinoma. Coffee and still-not-dense-enough blueberry cheesecake at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, supermarket for my necessities (milk, conditioner, nuts, and leaves), Wendy's iced tea at the food court. 

Yes, I know. Nothing eventful happens in our sad little lives but food. D}:

P.S. Also I was sad for a bit because I thought I had no future because contrary to my childhood expectations, I didn't grow up to be the smartest man in the world. Also I screwed up college, and generally underachieved and failed to make better use of my time and potential. D}:

Melodious Thunk

(Psst, hey you. You can skip to the end if you just want the bottomline.)

Proceeding with my incursion into jazz music, I am now currently listening to some music by one Thelonious Monk. Weird name, right? From what I gather, during his life he was also quite fond of funny hats, and was possessed of an idiosyncratic manner, a compelling mixture of arrogance, introversion, and just plain eccentricity. 

Even to my untrained ear, the difference between his music and Ellington's is discernible. It's perhaps similar to the difference between "pop" music and "indie" music (disregarding any negative connotations of either term for the moment), in terms of innovation or oddity as well as accessibility. 

What do I mean? Ellington goes down smoothly, while Monk is somewhat more challenging. He emphasized dissonance, played quite percussively, made heavy use of pauses, and basically set out to write his own rules, both in his composition and piano playing. Of course, at present, decades later, his music might not seem quite as groundbreaking (i.e., odd) as some of the more experimental and "out there" musicians are producing (I'm looking at you, The Bad Plus!*).

Okay, enough pretending that I know what I'm talking about. Guys, basically, Thelonious Sphere Monk (what a name) was one of the earlier and most distinctive innovators in jazz music, and I have to say that the character and style of his music shows through even to casual listeners like me. 

*They're some of the only contemporary jazz musicians I've ever seriously listened to, and their music has always struck me as "weird" but also "interesting". Apparently, the trio "combines elements of modern avant-garde jazz with rock and pop influences" [wiki], whatever that means.

Bottomline: Hey, guys, Thelonious Monk made some pretty groovy, interesting (and I mean that in a really good way, okay) jazz music. Also, The Bad Plus is a contemporary group that makes music that's even more "interesting". They make good sounds, people.

Some music I've been enjoying lately.

Been downloading new music recently, which just reminded me that I'll be needing more storage soon. Only about 4 gigs left on this laptop's hard drive, while the desktop is still out of commission. (And that's also running out of space, in any case.) I really have to look into getting an external hard drive soon.

Iron & Wine, apart from having an awesome beard, also produced the excellent album Our Endless Numbered Days, which I've been listening to a lot these past days. A very relaxing set of songs, essentially composed just of a guitar line accompanying his hushed, delicate voice, although some have simple percussion such as shakers, while others contain faint hints of female vocal accompaniment. 

I'd have to say, though, his lyrics are what made the album for me, both in the simpler but oddly affecting songs such as Each Coming Night, to more drawn out numbers such as Passing Afternoon.

I also downloaded some jazz by pianist, composer, and bandleader (thank you, Wikipedia) Duke Ellington. More or less a random choice of musician to begin getting into jazz with, as he'd been mentioned by Murakami in his novels a few times, and his name was also otherwise vaguely familiar. I'm an uninformed listener, but I enjoyed the rhythm and the energetic, spontaneous spirit of the music. It's the type of music you can't help but bob your head or tap your foot along with, and will serve as excellent background music for a party, or, in fact, any activity you would prefer to be rendered groovy.