Category: Just for Fun


Some Holiday Music a la Middle Earth

I rather liked the way the trailer (or preview) for the first past of The Hobbit used Misty Mountains Cold. The movie, well, more than enough has been said about that. I looked for the song, as it seemed appropriate for this time of year. It turns out several groups have covered it. And this one to get you started seems to agree that it fits the time of year. It is from the 2012 Holiday Concert at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.

Consolation for Those who Write Too Much

From an interview with Cynthia Ozick:

[In the early 50s an aspiring novelist] tried out teaching for a while after college—–as a teaching assistant on a stipend—–and then fled homeward to begin the novel. Mine, typically, was immensely ambitious. I thought of it as a “philosophical” novel, and was going to pit the liberal-modernists against the neo-Thomists. I wrote about 300,000 words of it.

Those were the days!


Aspirations to Write Better

Yes, more from Hemingway. I am reading others as well and may share from those if so moved. For now I will say that few have what he describes here. I will say it can be developed. And I will say I am most grateful to two people who have read my work, shredded it, but did so with love. Love here was the willingness to take the work on its terms and dig and hack and purge. That is why I think the skill can be learned or rediscovered if lost. I will not name them here. I have told them. Anything else is gossip and name-dropping. That would be unseemly and share a personal moment that is for them and me. Still, I thank them. And now for the quote:

A writer without a sense of justice and of injustice would be better off editing the yearbook of a school for exceptional children than writing novels. Another generalization. You see; they are not so difficult when they are sufficiently obvious. The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shockproof, shit detector. This is the writer’s radar and all great writers have had it. Ernest Hemingway, The Art of Fiction, No. 21, Paris Review


A little weekend song, When You Get to Asheville

I don’t know why banjos, fiddles, and the like move me, but they do. Throw in Edie Brickell’s voice, I’m a goner. Steve Martin and Brickell have a rather fine album (Martin is the listed artist) called Love Has Come For You. This song, When You Get to Asheville, mentions email, but no matter, or maybe to its advantage. As another song told us, You Must Remember This… Listen for the line about the dog. Martin and Brickell capture a similar sentiment that I doubt will ever go away until we fade from this place.


Sunday Night Monday Morning music

I’m re-reading Gravity’s Rainbow (Pynchon now on Kindle by the way). Finished V. Finished Crying of Lot 49. Tried to pick up Vineland which I loved. Wanted the difficult, mad, beautiful language. Back to Gravity’s Angel. For fans I post a song I knew before I read the book. It is Laurie Anderson’s Gravity’s Angel. Honestly, she’s not for everyone. Maybe not for most. But if you dig experimental music and complex lyrics give it a shot. The album Mister Heartbreak from which the track comes is fun too. Again fun for some. It has William Burroughs on Sharkey’s Night. I quoted it at my Cal graduation. That is below too. Shorter.

Where’s the law? Not sure. As Burroughs intones, “And sharkey says: hey, kemosabe! long time no see. he says: hey sport. you connect the dots. you pick up the pieces.” OK for a bit more, as I have said here before, life beyond the law matters. And it turns out that knowing life beyond the law might make you a better lawyer. That, by the way, is why empathy for a judge is important and a good thing. If you can’t walk in someone else’s shoes, at least read more, listen to more, watch more. Great writing, great communication opens the door to the world beyond yours and mine. At least those are the dots I connect. The pieces I pick up.


42 minutes 59 seconds + copper wire (and a little more) = bliss

Question: Why 42 minutes 59 seconds? Not 43 minutes. Not 42 minutes, 58 seconds. 42 minutes 59 seconds. Solution: Step One. New receiver. Step Two. Unpack old B&W speakers. Step Three. Strip casing, twist copper. Step Four. Connect all. Step Five. Insert album designed for stereo. Step Six. Hit Play. Step Seven. Bliss.

Answer: Dark Side of the Moon. Forty years old as of March 1, 2013.

I unpacked my speakers and set them up a few weeks back. Headphones are nice. They are portable. They are personal. They may even allow sound to envelop you. But not like speakers. Dark Side of the Moon was the first CD I bought. It is a great way to appreciate music engineered for stereo. I put the disc in years ago. Hit play. The next 42:59 was great. The same was true a few Sundays ago. I had a cup of tea (loose leaf, my mix of lapsong, Assam, and Kenyan). I hit play. 42 minutes and 59 minutes slipped away. That was a good, damn good day.

I recommend getting to a stereo and trying it.

(Even on your computer, check out Money, below, for the stereo fun.)


Bring on Jurassic Park!: Resurrection of Extinct Animals

Scientists have come to a “technical, not biological” problem in trying to resurrect a once extinct frog. Popular Science explains the:

gastric-brooding frog, native to tiny portions of Queensland, Australia, gave birth through its mouth, the only frog to do so (in fact, very few other animals in the entire animal kingdom do this–it’s mostly this frog and a few fish). It succumbed to extinction due to mostly non-human-related causes–parasites, loss of habitat, invasive weeds, a particular kind of fungus.

Specimens were frozen in simple deep freezers and reinserted into another frog. The embryos grew. The next step is to get them to full adulthood so they can pop out like before. Yes, these folks are talking to those interested in bringing back other species.

As for this particular animal, the process reminds me a bit too much of Alien, which still scares the heck out of me.

the gastric-brooding frog lays eggs, which are coated in a substance called prostaglandin. This substance causes the frog to stop producing gastric acid in its stomach, thus making the frog’s stomach a very nice place for eggs to be. So the frog swallows the eggs, incubates them in her gut, and when they hatch, the baby frogs crawl out her mouth.

Science. Yummy. Oh here is your law fodder. What are the ethical implications? Send in the clones! (A better title for Attack of the Clones, perhaps).


“Game Of Negligence” And Other 1L Haiku

We recently covered proof of negligence in my torts class at the University of Washington. I gave my students an optional assignment: write a haiku about the reading (pages 238-67 of the 12th edition of Prosser). Here is sampling of their efforts, complete with kigo. Enjoy!


Winter is coming
Dangerous like icy roads,
Bananas and grapes.


No—don’t cry, they said
Not over milk that’s been spilled
but K-Mart will cry


Fall’s weary pattern
Of darkness, of rain and death
It speaks for itself.


Read More


Because It’s Cool, Time Lapse from Space

I sometimes suggest that folks, especially lawyer folks, should look up and remember the coolness of the world. This post of star trails and city lights looks down, down at the Earth from the ISS. It’s sort of 2001 updated. According to Wired, “Photographer Christoph Malin from Austria created the stunning film by stacking image sequences taken by astronauts aboard the International Space Station.”


Calling Roland Barthes, Einstein’s Brain App

Somewhere Roland Barthes is smiling. Slashgear reported that there’s an iPad app that allows you “to investigate Albert Einstein’s brain as if they were looking through a microscope. The goal of the app is to make slides and images of Einstein’s brain more accessible to scientists, students, and anyone else curious about the genius. I read Barthes’s Mythologies and the essay “The Brain of Einstein” when I was studying rhetoric at Berkeley. The app reminded of his essay. Barthes shows that the focus on Einstein’s brain strips away magic, turns him into a machine, and “introduce[s] him into a world of robots.” “Through the mythology of Einstein, the world blissfully regained the image of knowledge reduced to a formula.” For me Barthes evokes Chaplin’s Modern Times but for the great man when he describes that Einstein becomes “genius so lacking in magic that one speaks about his thought as of a functional labour analogous to the mechanical making of sausages, the grinding of corn or the crushing of ore: he used to produce thought, continuously, as a mill makes flour, and death was above all, for him, the cessation of a localized function: ‘the most powerful brain of all has stopped thinking’.”

Why would we do this? Because we want to capture and conquer nature and move beyond magic. Maybe if we reduce and reify we can find the secret to Einstein and all become him (and then the fashion industry collapses as all realize wearing the same thing is quite smart). Yet we want the magic too. The blog Quantum Lit puts it this way:

Barthes goes on, with no little touch of sarcasm: “Through the mythology of Einstein, the world blissfully regained the image of knowledge reduced to a formula,” and no fewer than six times, uses the word ‘magic’ when referring to the myth of Einstein and his search for a unifying theory, concluding that “In this way [having not discovered the unifying theory] Einstein fulfills all the conditions of myth, which could not care less about contradictions so long as it establishes a euphoric security: at once magician and machine, eternal researcher and unfulfilled discoverer, unleashing the best and the worst, brain and conscience, Einstein embodies the most contradictory dreams, and mythically reconciles the infinite power of man over nature with the ‘fatality’ of the sacrosanct, which man cannot yet do without.”

Who knows? Maybe some physical thing is at work. “The study of Einstein’s brain allowed researchers to discover that Einstein’s parietal lobe was 15% wider than normal. The parietal lobe is the area of the brain that has to do with understanding math, language, and spatial relationships.” A clue but the riddle is unsolved. And alas! MRI was not available to model Einstein’s brain. Nonetheless the app enables crowd-sourcing of the quest: “slides and images of Einstein’s brain [are] more accessible to scientists, students, and anyone else curious about the genius.” So all is well. Together we can partake of the brain, the myth, of Einstein. Perhaps we will even grok Einstein; and if we can clone him, consume him as Jubal Harshaw did for Valentine Michael Smith.

SIDE NOTE: Apparently the version of Mythologies I referred to and read dropped some essays from the original. A new English translation is available.