2010-04-23 10:46 pm
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There's Norman, and music

Okay, so Norman, OK, is a smallish college town with a dusting of residual hippie, surrounded by red state. As such, we do a lot of free festivals. There is... Jazz in June, Medieval Fair, A Midsummer Night's Fair, Chocolate Festival, Mayfest.... On any given spring/summer weekend, someone somewhere is operating a craft booth for some reason.

These things tend to attract a broad spectrum of over-30 Norman. They are generally sponsored by wealthy donors, so you get the gentry with the deck chairs and coolers of chilled Zinfandel. And they're free, so you get everybody else. And people bring their kids to hurtle around throwing glowsticks at each other; and people bring their dogs because that's this inexplicable thing Norman people do, bring their dogs to everything. I'm not a particular fan of jazz, but I drop by Jazz in June most years, just to sit under the stars with 9,000 other people and listen to music and occasionally throw a kid back their glowstick.

So. Two years ago, they announced the new Norman Music Festival, a free street festival in the old downtown section. And the usual crowd turned up with their khaki shorts and coolers, and were met by a giant mass of college kids, who had heard on their Myspace and whatnot that the Polyphonic Spree were going to be there. There were some minor culture-clash friction burns, but on the whole it went really, really well. I did a livejournal.) Then the next year, attendance doubled, Of Montreal was the headliner, and the crowd was almost all college kids.

This year, they're expanding attendance to triple; they've expanded to two days; the Governor proclaimed Sunday Norman Music Festival day; they seem to have invited the entire instrument-playing population of Oklahoma and Texas... and I've never heard of any of the non-local bands, shh. They generally seem to be making an effort to get the past-30 crowd back, without sacrificing the hipness, but we have a children's stage, but we have a lot of fresh edgy sound that you haven't heard of, so... should be an interesting thing to observe. It's a sort of incredibly laid-back, low-stakes battle for the soul of... the festival or Norman or something. Dogs will be allowed until 6:00 PM Sunday.
2009-12-26 04:54 pm
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(no subject)

This is more or less a snow day, so I was peaceably watching some Buster Keaton just now. Empty bag of popcorn there, remote here by left hand, mostly-empty can of Coke Zero in right hand. Smile at silent-movie antics, raise can, and... here's where I'm not 100% on the order of events. As best I can reconstruct: Trailing edge of can impacts leg, spins out of hand on continued upward trajectory. Hand, still rising toward mouth, grabs instinctively for can as eyes jerk away from TV, try to adjust light levels and locate action. Can does neat 180-degree spin and slaps into palm of hand, fingers/thumb close around.

Right-hand touch receptors: Target acquired, beep.
Eyes: Action, action... woah, have can!
Brain: Wow, nice...
1.2 fl. oz. liquid from inverted can: [Impacts lap]

And then I flailed around a bit with napkins and such, and eventually found the remote and paused Buster Keaton in the act of falling off a steamboat. This is exactly what the Parents Television Council is on about.
2009-09-08 10:11 pm
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Batman laughs at your sensory prose

As always, I was in this restaurant, reading this book. Today, so-so chain barbecue, and an author on about the Beats, 'those fantastic open-sensed men with their slightly regrettable prose'. Heh. I look up.

As I do, the barbecue sauce I'm rolling on my tongue suddenly peaks, a little burst of hotness. There's something half-epic and half-emo crescendoing on the radio, drums and teen-pain. Over the bar, Iron Chef Bobby Flay slices a honeydew melon, a kinetic sculpture of knives and unconscious economy. A pretty purple-haired girl beams at someone off over my shoulder, and thrusts her hand forward to wave. It all washes over me in an instant. If Kerouac could see the... happy purple girl. No. If Kerouac could see Bobby Flay's, hang on, knives flash to the drumbeat knives don't come close to the drumbeat. If Kerouac... has pain. Wave of emo heat. Spicemelon. Kinetic epic Flay wave. Purple! None of these things go together! Gah!

Hey, remember when Batman did that thing? That was awesome. Mmm, Batman.
2009-08-31 09:45 pm
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Anime takes over the world: Stage 37

Shirley's Pancake Corner: 10:20 PM

Grey-haired waitress: Ah-CHAW!
Younger, plumper waitress: Bless you! Y'know that means somebody's talking bout you behind your back.
Grey-hair (dabbing at her nose): Ain't heard that one, hun.
Younger: Oh yeah, I saw it on TV.
2009-08-23 02:38 pm
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About me

Okay, about me. I was born, raised, and educated in the Eastern Oklahoma back-country, up among the hills. Hated school. Oklahoma was still a French territory at that point, and every morning the professeurs would force us to learn how Napoleon the Third invented the lightbulb, or how to count in metric. "Un... deux... trois point un sept deux un neuf (approx.)," we would drone dispiritedly. "...liters." Some of us would count in good American gallons in our hearts, as God intended - even as the school's heart-gallon-sniffing dogs snarled and tore at our flesh.

Then one day, one of the other students (Etienne, I think) discovered the dogs could be distracted if you thought about enough liver pate. Oh, how we thought about liver pate! We must have been a comical sight, eleven children and a comedy-relief orangutan all sitting there thinking about pate, twelve little brows furrowed, twelve little noses gushing blood. But it worked, and we were able to escape into the hills where we gamboled and played and petitioned President Roosevelt for statehood. Our story would later inspire the Rogers & Hammerstein musical Oklahoma and the Oscar-nominated 1974 film Papillon (starring Steve McQueen as Osmond Saxer and a young Johnny Depp as his top-hatted, inch-tall conscience). In a 2004 interview with New Hampshire Monthly magazine, Depp would muse: "Quite a guy, that Ormond. If I couldn't be Johnny Depp, I think I'd like to be a slightly different Johnny Depp. Ha! Psych! In your face, Sacker!"

Your time will come, Johnny Depp. Oh yes.