Monday, February 14, 2005
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Saudi "Elections"
While I guess it is a slight step forward to have some type of elections in Saudi Arabia, I definitely find it disturbing that women were not allowed to take part in the vote. I have read that there were quite a few women candidates that had been barred from running. Carmen Bin Ladin recently wrote a book about her life in Saudi Arabia, and her divorce from Osama's older brother because of the degradation of women by Islamic fundamentalists In Saudi Arabia. The book is titled, "Inside the Kingdom : My Life in Saudi Arabia" in the U.S. and "The Veiled Kingdom" in the U.K. I have not read it personally, but I plan on adding it to my list. I know of a couple of women who had similar problems when they had married Pakistanis, and had tried living there.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Happy Chinese New Year
Today is the start of the Chinese New Year. We are now in the Year of the Rooster. It's too bad I am not in New York or San Francisco to celebrate it.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
PREMATURE AUTOPSIES
("I heard this on the radio recently, and thought it was really one of the most poetic eulogies.")
Though we are told to mourn it, we must know that it was a noble sound. It had majesty. Yes, it was majestic. Deep down in the soul of it all, where the notes themselves provide the levels of revelation we can only expect of great art, it formed a bridge. That’s right, a bridge. A bridge that stretched from the realm of dreams to the highways and byways and thoroughfares and back roads of action. To be even more precise, let me say that this sound was itself an action. Like a knight wrapped in the glistening armor of invention, of creativity of integrity of grace, of sophistication, of SOUL, this sound took the field. It arrived when the heart was like a percussively throbbing community suffering the despair imposed by dragons. Now if a dragon thinks it is grand enough, that dragon will try to make you believe that what you need to carry you through the inevitable turmoil that visits human life is beyond your grasp. If that dragon thinks it is grand enough, it will try to convince you that there is no escape, no release, no salvation from its wicked dominion. It will tell you that you are destined to live your life in the dark. But when a majestic sound takes the field, when it parts the waters of silence and noise with the power of song, when this majestic concantenation of rhythm, harmony, and melody assembles itself in the invisible world of music, ears begin to change and lives begin to change and those who were musically lame begin to walk with a charismatic sophistication to their steps. You see, when something is pure, when it has the noblest reasons as its fundamental purpose, then it will become a candle of sound in the dark cave of silence. Yes, it was a noble sound,
I say it was a noble sound because we are told today that this great sound is dead. We are told that because it did not cosign the ignoble proclivities of the marketplace, because it did not lie back and relax in the dungeon with riff raff, because it had an attitude of gutbucket grandeur, and because it sought to elevate through elegance, for all of these things, it has died, for some a most welcome death. But we must understand that the money lenders of the marketplace have never EVER known the difference between an office or an auction block and a temple, they have never known that there was any identity to anything other than that of a hustle, a shuck, a scam, a game. If you listen to them, they’ll tell you that everything is always up for sale. They recognize no difference or distance between the sacred and the profane. For them, everything is fair game to be used in THEIR game. Oh, they chuckle when they hear that the coffin for this noble sound has been built; they offer to donate more nails. They send bouquets instead of wreaths. They feel this sound began to outlive its usefulness the moment it could no longer be abused in the world of prostitution, that world where the beautiful, wondrous act of intimate romance and procreation is reduced to one fact: a sham ritual in which the customer’s appetite for lies is equaled by the prostitute’s willingness to tell those lies in whatever detail he is ready to pay for. The tones of lies are vulgar facts but they are not noble sounds.
But there is another truth and that truth passes through time in the very same way an irresistible force passes through an immovable object. That’s what I said: this truth is so irresistible that it passes through immoveable objects. It is the truth of a desire for a refined and impassioned portrait of the presence and the power and the possibilities of the human spirit. Can you imagine that? I said: a desire for the refined and impassioned depiction in music of the presence and the power and the possibilities of the human spirit. That is the desire that lights the candle in the darkness. That is the desire that confounds dragons who think themselves so grand. We have heard the striking of the match and have felt ourselves made whole in the glow of the candle for a long time.
It is possible that we who listened heard something timeless from those who are the descendents of the many who were literally up for sale, those whose presence on the auction blocks and in the slave quarters formed the cross upon which the Constitution of this nation was crucified. Yet, even after that crucifixion, there were those who rose in the third century of American slavery with a vision of freedom; there were those who lit the mighty wick that extended from the candle and carried it; there were those who spoke through music of the meaning of light; those who were not content to accept the darkness in the heart that comes of surrender to dragons who think themselves grand; those who said- LISTEN CLOSELY NOW-who said, "If you give me a fair chance I will help you better understand the meaning of democracy" Yes, that is precisely what they said: "If you give me a fair chance I will help you better understand the meaning of democracy" These are they who were truly the makers of a noble sound.
But as we mourn the passing of this noble sound, we are told to accept the idea that no longer are those blessed who are endowed with majestic inclinations; we are told that no longer are those blessed who have the intention of refining those majestic inclinations into rhythm and tune. If we accept that, however we might find ourselves ignoring the democratic imperatives of our birthright. We might fail to understand what was meant way back in the day when the sun of liberty had been cloaked by the ignoble practice of slavery. We might fail to understand that those living in the dragon’s shadow of bondage fashioned a luminous and mighty chariot that could swing low and carry us back to the home of human hope, which is heroism. I say heroism because it is ever the quality of bravery, of devotion, of the will to nobility that underscores the marvelous phrases of this music. It swung low and it swung upward and it wore wings. It knew that its shining armor would fit it well because it tried that armor on at the gate of slavery’s hell. It was the ethereal aerodynamics of musical art in America. It was democratic because it proved over and over that the sound of human glory knows no social limitations, that the sound of human glory has no concern with pigmentation, that the sound of human glory transcends all definitions except those of the human soul itself. Without a doubt, it was a noble sound.
Some people might ask, "What is this man doing talking about nobility? Doesn’t he know that this is a dragon-spawned and blood-encrusted century? Doesn’t he know that the dragon breath of our time is breathing down the neck of the year 2000? Doesn’t he know that this is the era of flash and cash?" I will say to them that the interwoven labyrinths of greed and manipulation are as old as the FIRST lie, When you lie you are trying to manipulate; and when you try to manipulate for false profit, you reveal your greed; and when you swallow that dragon dust cooperatively you reveal yourself as a chump, a sucker, one of those folks Barnum said was born every minute. But I will answer them also by saying that nobility is always born somewhere out there in the world, and when you live in a democratic nation you have to face the mysterious fact that nobility has no permanent address, you hove to face the fact that nobody has nobility’s private phone number. Nobility is not listed in the phone book. Nobility is not listed in the society column, nobility shows up where it feels like showing up, and where it feels like showing up might be just about anywhere. If it could rise like a mighty light from among the human livestock of the plantation, you know it can come from anywhere it wants to. You see, nobility is listed though. Yes, it is listed. Nobility lists itself in the human spirit, and its purpose is to enlist the ears of the listeners in the bittersweet song of spiritual concerns.
As we gather here to mourn the passing of this noble sound, we should take the pains to remember something. There are some of us who don’t accept the dreams of dragons as their own, no matter how grand those dragons might say they are. Yes, there are some who will refuse to drop the candle even when pushed into a dark cave and locked there behind a stone. Don’t forget the people like Duke Ellington, who will not leave the field once it becomes obvious that the sound of a cymbal swinging in celebration is more beautiful than the ringing of a cash register. Remember that there are those who, like Duke Ellington, are willing to face the majesty of their heritage and endure the slow, painful development demanded of serious study There is, you must recall, a kind of serious study that will give you the confidence to strike your match to the mighty wick that will illuminate yet another portion of the darkness. Out there somewhere are the kind of people who do not accept the premature autopsy of a noble art form. These are the ones who follow in the footsteps of the gifted and the disciplined who have been deeply hurt but not discouraged, who have been frightened but have not forgotten how to be brave, who revel in the company of their friends and sweethearts but are willing to face the loneliness that is demanded of mastery.
In order to carry the candle, you have to accept the fact that when the wax on that candle begins to melt it will slide down and burn your hand. You must be willing to accept the fact that pain is a part of the process of revelation. You have to be willing to take the field and stay on the field the way Duke stayed on the road, traveling in raggedy cars, traveling in private Pullman cars, traveling by bus, traveling by boat, traveling against his will sometimes in airplanes. Duke Ellington accepted all the pain and the agony and the self-doubt and the disappointment he was faced with because he had been inspired! Duke Ellington was inspired by the majesty he heard coming from the musicians of all hues and from all levels of training. Duke heard the Constitutional orchestra of American life and transformed it into musical form. Whenever they said this music was dead, Duke was out there, writing music and performing the meaning of his democratic birthright in an artistic language that uttered its first words way back on that first day that a slave sang a new sang in a new land.
I am here to tell you that there are some who do not accept the premature autopsy of a noble art form. There are some of us out here who are on a quest, and in the process of that quest who find themselves having to perform conquests. There are some of us out here who believe that the majesty of human life demands an accurate rendition in rhythm and tune. Duke Ellington performed with Sidney Bechet, with Louis Armstrong, with Coleman Hawkins, with Charlie Parker, with John Coltrane, and wrote music for almost all of them. His own orchestra was described by Mahalia Jackson as a sacred institution. The Duke Ellington Orchestra was the manifestation of the elaborately fabricated drum he called this music. He was dedicated without reservation. He knew that you have to listen to a noble sound. You see, you have to watch out for a tradition built on the intention of putting noble inclinations into rhythm and tune. You have to beware of premature autopsies. A noble sound might not lie still in the dark cave where the dragons have taken it. A noble sound might just rise up and push away the stones that were placed in its path. A noble sound might just rise up on the high side of the sky, it might just ring the silver bells of musical light that tear through the cloak of the dragon’s shadow that blacks the sun. You got to watch those early autopsies. A noble sound is a mighty thing. It can mess around and end up swinging low and swinging high and flapping its wings in a rhythm that might swoop up over the limitations imposed by the dreams of dragons. I said: You better check those autopsies. A noble sound, the birthright understood so clearly by Duke Ellington, it might swing low and it might tell you to get on board. It might move with so much grace and so much confidence that you will have to remember what I have been telling you: You had better not pay much attention to those premature autopsies. This noble sound, this thing of majesty this art, so battered but so ready for battle, it just might lift you high enough in the understanding of human life to let you know in no uncertain terms why that marvelous Washingtonian, Edward Kennedy Ellington, NEVER came off the road.
The sermon "Premature Autopsies" was written by Stanley Crouch and delivered by the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Jr. on the album The Majesty of the Blues recorded by Wynton Marsalis in 1989. The sermon, told over the backdrop of a "New Orleans Funeral" is in three parts–"The Death of Jazz," "Premature Autopsies," and "Oh, But on the Third Day (Happy Feet Blues."
Though we are told to mourn it, we must know that it was a noble sound. It had majesty. Yes, it was majestic. Deep down in the soul of it all, where the notes themselves provide the levels of revelation we can only expect of great art, it formed a bridge. That’s right, a bridge. A bridge that stretched from the realm of dreams to the highways and byways and thoroughfares and back roads of action. To be even more precise, let me say that this sound was itself an action. Like a knight wrapped in the glistening armor of invention, of creativity of integrity of grace, of sophistication, of SOUL, this sound took the field. It arrived when the heart was like a percussively throbbing community suffering the despair imposed by dragons. Now if a dragon thinks it is grand enough, that dragon will try to make you believe that what you need to carry you through the inevitable turmoil that visits human life is beyond your grasp. If that dragon thinks it is grand enough, it will try to convince you that there is no escape, no release, no salvation from its wicked dominion. It will tell you that you are destined to live your life in the dark. But when a majestic sound takes the field, when it parts the waters of silence and noise with the power of song, when this majestic concantenation of rhythm, harmony, and melody assembles itself in the invisible world of music, ears begin to change and lives begin to change and those who were musically lame begin to walk with a charismatic sophistication to their steps. You see, when something is pure, when it has the noblest reasons as its fundamental purpose, then it will become a candle of sound in the dark cave of silence. Yes, it was a noble sound,
I say it was a noble sound because we are told today that this great sound is dead. We are told that because it did not cosign the ignoble proclivities of the marketplace, because it did not lie back and relax in the dungeon with riff raff, because it had an attitude of gutbucket grandeur, and because it sought to elevate through elegance, for all of these things, it has died, for some a most welcome death. But we must understand that the money lenders of the marketplace have never EVER known the difference between an office or an auction block and a temple, they have never known that there was any identity to anything other than that of a hustle, a shuck, a scam, a game. If you listen to them, they’ll tell you that everything is always up for sale. They recognize no difference or distance between the sacred and the profane. For them, everything is fair game to be used in THEIR game. Oh, they chuckle when they hear that the coffin for this noble sound has been built; they offer to donate more nails. They send bouquets instead of wreaths. They feel this sound began to outlive its usefulness the moment it could no longer be abused in the world of prostitution, that world where the beautiful, wondrous act of intimate romance and procreation is reduced to one fact: a sham ritual in which the customer’s appetite for lies is equaled by the prostitute’s willingness to tell those lies in whatever detail he is ready to pay for. The tones of lies are vulgar facts but they are not noble sounds.
But there is another truth and that truth passes through time in the very same way an irresistible force passes through an immovable object. That’s what I said: this truth is so irresistible that it passes through immoveable objects. It is the truth of a desire for a refined and impassioned portrait of the presence and the power and the possibilities of the human spirit. Can you imagine that? I said: a desire for the refined and impassioned depiction in music of the presence and the power and the possibilities of the human spirit. That is the desire that lights the candle in the darkness. That is the desire that confounds dragons who think themselves so grand. We have heard the striking of the match and have felt ourselves made whole in the glow of the candle for a long time.
It is possible that we who listened heard something timeless from those who are the descendents of the many who were literally up for sale, those whose presence on the auction blocks and in the slave quarters formed the cross upon which the Constitution of this nation was crucified. Yet, even after that crucifixion, there were those who rose in the third century of American slavery with a vision of freedom; there were those who lit the mighty wick that extended from the candle and carried it; there were those who spoke through music of the meaning of light; those who were not content to accept the darkness in the heart that comes of surrender to dragons who think themselves grand; those who said- LISTEN CLOSELY NOW-who said, "If you give me a fair chance I will help you better understand the meaning of democracy" Yes, that is precisely what they said: "If you give me a fair chance I will help you better understand the meaning of democracy" These are they who were truly the makers of a noble sound.
But as we mourn the passing of this noble sound, we are told to accept the idea that no longer are those blessed who are endowed with majestic inclinations; we are told that no longer are those blessed who have the intention of refining those majestic inclinations into rhythm and tune. If we accept that, however we might find ourselves ignoring the democratic imperatives of our birthright. We might fail to understand what was meant way back in the day when the sun of liberty had been cloaked by the ignoble practice of slavery. We might fail to understand that those living in the dragon’s shadow of bondage fashioned a luminous and mighty chariot that could swing low and carry us back to the home of human hope, which is heroism. I say heroism because it is ever the quality of bravery, of devotion, of the will to nobility that underscores the marvelous phrases of this music. It swung low and it swung upward and it wore wings. It knew that its shining armor would fit it well because it tried that armor on at the gate of slavery’s hell. It was the ethereal aerodynamics of musical art in America. It was democratic because it proved over and over that the sound of human glory knows no social limitations, that the sound of human glory has no concern with pigmentation, that the sound of human glory transcends all definitions except those of the human soul itself. Without a doubt, it was a noble sound.
Some people might ask, "What is this man doing talking about nobility? Doesn’t he know that this is a dragon-spawned and blood-encrusted century? Doesn’t he know that the dragon breath of our time is breathing down the neck of the year 2000? Doesn’t he know that this is the era of flash and cash?" I will say to them that the interwoven labyrinths of greed and manipulation are as old as the FIRST lie, When you lie you are trying to manipulate; and when you try to manipulate for false profit, you reveal your greed; and when you swallow that dragon dust cooperatively you reveal yourself as a chump, a sucker, one of those folks Barnum said was born every minute. But I will answer them also by saying that nobility is always born somewhere out there in the world, and when you live in a democratic nation you have to face the mysterious fact that nobility has no permanent address, you hove to face the fact that nobody has nobility’s private phone number. Nobility is not listed in the phone book. Nobility is not listed in the society column, nobility shows up where it feels like showing up, and where it feels like showing up might be just about anywhere. If it could rise like a mighty light from among the human livestock of the plantation, you know it can come from anywhere it wants to. You see, nobility is listed though. Yes, it is listed. Nobility lists itself in the human spirit, and its purpose is to enlist the ears of the listeners in the bittersweet song of spiritual concerns.
As we gather here to mourn the passing of this noble sound, we should take the pains to remember something. There are some of us who don’t accept the dreams of dragons as their own, no matter how grand those dragons might say they are. Yes, there are some who will refuse to drop the candle even when pushed into a dark cave and locked there behind a stone. Don’t forget the people like Duke Ellington, who will not leave the field once it becomes obvious that the sound of a cymbal swinging in celebration is more beautiful than the ringing of a cash register. Remember that there are those who, like Duke Ellington, are willing to face the majesty of their heritage and endure the slow, painful development demanded of serious study There is, you must recall, a kind of serious study that will give you the confidence to strike your match to the mighty wick that will illuminate yet another portion of the darkness. Out there somewhere are the kind of people who do not accept the premature autopsy of a noble art form. These are the ones who follow in the footsteps of the gifted and the disciplined who have been deeply hurt but not discouraged, who have been frightened but have not forgotten how to be brave, who revel in the company of their friends and sweethearts but are willing to face the loneliness that is demanded of mastery.
In order to carry the candle, you have to accept the fact that when the wax on that candle begins to melt it will slide down and burn your hand. You must be willing to accept the fact that pain is a part of the process of revelation. You have to be willing to take the field and stay on the field the way Duke stayed on the road, traveling in raggedy cars, traveling in private Pullman cars, traveling by bus, traveling by boat, traveling against his will sometimes in airplanes. Duke Ellington accepted all the pain and the agony and the self-doubt and the disappointment he was faced with because he had been inspired! Duke Ellington was inspired by the majesty he heard coming from the musicians of all hues and from all levels of training. Duke heard the Constitutional orchestra of American life and transformed it into musical form. Whenever they said this music was dead, Duke was out there, writing music and performing the meaning of his democratic birthright in an artistic language that uttered its first words way back on that first day that a slave sang a new sang in a new land.
I am here to tell you that there are some who do not accept the premature autopsy of a noble art form. There are some of us out here who are on a quest, and in the process of that quest who find themselves having to perform conquests. There are some of us out here who believe that the majesty of human life demands an accurate rendition in rhythm and tune. Duke Ellington performed with Sidney Bechet, with Louis Armstrong, with Coleman Hawkins, with Charlie Parker, with John Coltrane, and wrote music for almost all of them. His own orchestra was described by Mahalia Jackson as a sacred institution. The Duke Ellington Orchestra was the manifestation of the elaborately fabricated drum he called this music. He was dedicated without reservation. He knew that you have to listen to a noble sound. You see, you have to watch out for a tradition built on the intention of putting noble inclinations into rhythm and tune. You have to beware of premature autopsies. A noble sound might not lie still in the dark cave where the dragons have taken it. A noble sound might just rise up and push away the stones that were placed in its path. A noble sound might just rise up on the high side of the sky, it might just ring the silver bells of musical light that tear through the cloak of the dragon’s shadow that blacks the sun. You got to watch those early autopsies. A noble sound is a mighty thing. It can mess around and end up swinging low and swinging high and flapping its wings in a rhythm that might swoop up over the limitations imposed by the dreams of dragons. I said: You better check those autopsies. A noble sound, the birthright understood so clearly by Duke Ellington, it might swing low and it might tell you to get on board. It might move with so much grace and so much confidence that you will have to remember what I have been telling you: You had better not pay much attention to those premature autopsies. This noble sound, this thing of majesty this art, so battered but so ready for battle, it just might lift you high enough in the understanding of human life to let you know in no uncertain terms why that marvelous Washingtonian, Edward Kennedy Ellington, NEVER came off the road.
The sermon "Premature Autopsies" was written by Stanley Crouch and delivered by the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Jr. on the album The Majesty of the Blues recorded by Wynton Marsalis in 1989. The sermon, told over the backdrop of a "New Orleans Funeral" is in three parts–"The Death of Jazz," "Premature Autopsies," and "Oh, But on the Third Day (Happy Feet Blues."
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Day of Sports
I started out the day with the North Carolina-Florida State game. I am glad my Tar Heels had a relatively easy time dismissing the Seminoles. They are going to have a tough game coming up against Duke. I think we have a better balance than Duke does, but I am still worries. Then of course there was the Superbowl. I thought it was a good game but the commercials were not that great this year.
My buddy's birthday
We were supposed to start at 7:30 for dinner, but as usual we didn't start till late. I wanted to come late knowing that I would be waiting for the big group, but the metro was actually on time and I woke up from my nap early. It really took a long time to get our orders, because we had 40 people. I also thought my food was a little bland. But it was nice seeing everyone. My friend is heading to Germany for a year as part of a program for journalists. He also got a chance to be an extra in a few movies. Also two of the couples announced that they are expecting. I changed the dinner venue for my birthday bash coming up in a couple of weeks to the lounge we will all be drinking at afterwards. I get to celebrate twice since my birthday is in the middle of the week this year. The second celebration will be a black tie event at the Corcoran.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Botanical Gardens
I like to go to the National Botanical Gardens sometimes to relax. Especially in the winter, it is one of the most comfortable places, because they have to maintain the temperature and humidity for the tropical plants.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
State of the Union
I personally think that the President did a good job of the State of the Union speech. Of course, I am biased towards his policies. I do think that the Democrats really need to find someone less robotic than Rep. Pelosi. At least, she gained some weight and doesn't look like a walking corpse this year. I think that the Dem's need to find themselves again. I really hope that we can push forward the private retirement accounts. I never liked the idea of having to put aside money that has a lower return than some of the most conservative investment strategies. I was surprised the President did not mention that the U.S. and the U.K. are pushing for oil sanctions against Sudan. I am curious to see the specifics for the energy policy.
Bringing back comments
I had decided to turn off comments for a couple of days, because I needed a break. They are back now. I would like to go back to the original purpose of this blog as a place to share some of the photos I take and my observations.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Sounds fishy to me
From Financial Times article about U.N. official who ran the Iraq oil-for-food program:
"Ms. Zeytounsian - described by a family friend as a 'low-ranking civil servant who lived on her pension and had no extra money' - died in June. On March 23, she fell into an elevator shaft. Police who declared her death an accident, were unable to interview her."
"Ms. Zeytounsian - described by a family friend as a 'low-ranking civil servant who lived on her pension and had no extra money' - died in June. On March 23, she fell into an elevator shaft. Police who declared her death an accident, were unable to interview her."
Monday, January 31, 2005
Disappointed with Ticketmaster
I was trying to get tickets to the U2 concert either in Philly or New York, since they have not announced a D.C. date yet. First off, I am kicking myself because I did get in once for the Philly concert, but the seats that came up were rear view seats. So I tried searching again at the high price, but by then everything was sold out. The problem is that is seemed that a lot of people buy the maximum amount they are allowed, and resell their extra tickets on Ebay. I browsed through some of these listings, and they were going for practically $300 per tickets on the floor. I guess I will sign up for the U2 subscription, and hop that they open up a second leg of their tour. This way I might be able to get some pre-sale tickets. It did not to be this hard to get tickets a few years ago.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Friday, January 28, 2005
Liberation of Auschwitz
I have been reading this week of the Auschwitz ceremony. It disturbs me greatly that anti-semitism has increased worldwide in the past decade. I think the coverage in the U.S. press has been paltry in comparison to coverage in other countries. Hopefully, this will be the beginning of an effort to lower the number of hate crimes committed in this world.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Interesting Article about blogs
From the Financial Times
Apple bites back in battle to keep bloggers in check
By Patti Waldmeir
Published: January 26 2005 02:00 | Last updated: January 26 2005 02:00
FT article about Apple suit against Thinksecret.com
Apple bites back in battle to keep bloggers in check
By Patti Waldmeir
Published: January 26 2005 02:00 | Last updated: January 26 2005 02:00
FT article about Apple suit against Thinksecret.com
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Sideways
I finally saw the movie "Sideways". I thought it was put together really well except for a slow part towards the end of the movie. I think the writer put in some good metaphors, and I think I will read the book. It also helps that I recognize a lot of the vineyards that were shown in the film. Since my brother lived in San Fran, and I have a few friends would live there. I went to the Best Cellars to taste wine afterwards. One wine I really liked was the 88 Strauss Samling from Austria.
Bored
I haven't posted anything much the last few days, because things have been kind of dull. I would have gone skiing, but I want to give my knee a chance to heal. I guess the most "interesting" happening today is my trip to dentist for some cleaning.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Friday, January 21, 2005
Coming Soon - Inaugural Parade Photos
I will be posting photos from the Inaugural Parade in the next day or two. I am so completely exhausted after getting 4 hours of sleep for the last few days, and working ouside in the cold all day. My face is a little wind-burnt, and my left leg hurts. But it was a great experience, and I got to great views of the President and other celebrities. I think the best performance was by Andrea Bocelli. His voice is amazing.
The impostor in comments
I had not even looked at this site yesterday. I am not seeing anyone seriously. shree dog with a space is a fake. I really find this annoying especially when I am dead tired. I do apologize if I had been only commenting towards the women. Though recall commenting to Odin and SDN before. I had originally set this site up to share with my friends who are across the country some of the pictures I take.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Military Gala
The Military Gala turned out to be a very cool event. Because of getting to volunteer, I ended getting a great view of the President when he spoke. Also, I was able to see the rehearsals for Kelsey Grammer, Lynn Swann, Gloria Estefan, etc. Daryll Hammond from SNL was hilarious. I didn't get any pictures for this event, because I couldn't get a good shot on my camera phone and I did not bring my Canon.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Burlington Pictures
I went to Burlington for my brother's whitecoats ceremony at University of Vermont med school. Here are the pictures.
Ceremony Pictures
Ceremony Pictures
A Few Burlington Pictures
I will be posting soon some of the pictures I took in Burlington. Things have been a little crazy for me with the Inauguration coming up. I should have some pictures of the Festivities.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Caio Fonseca
If you get a chance, check out the art of Caio Fonesca. He bases his painting on trying to find the basic "forms" in art. I will be in Burlington most of today, so won't be commenting today.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
School Logos
Well, these are the logos for the universities I attended. I think this will definitely tell you my profession.
My profession
Well, here's another hint. Some people really despise my profession. Shakespeare for one had a distaste for it. Nice to meet everyone. I seriously thought my buddies were playing a joke on me. I also do have a second profession which sometimes my main profession prevents me from doing. So if you guess the main one, we can start the guessing for the second.
A little taken back
Lily,
If you are in the area, I wouldn't mind meeting you. But since I have never met you, I think picking you up and having you stay at my place is a bit too much. If this not is not joke, we can discuss over email at shreedogg@yahoo.com . Here's a clue for my profession: at times I work a ton of hours.
If you are in the area, I wouldn't mind meeting you. But since I have never met you, I think picking you up and having you stay at my place is a bit too much. If this not is not joke, we can discuss over email at shreedogg@yahoo.com . Here's a clue for my profession: at times I work a ton of hours.
Monday, January 10, 2005
Well, this is getting entertaining
It's funny, because I don't think any of my friends who know about this site have entered comments(though I am looking for a tell that one of you guys are). I guess I should reveal a little secret. Georgie is actually my mom's dog. I went with her to buy him from a farm in Maryland on Mother's Day about a year and a half ago. So I don't get to see him everyday necessarily, especially since my apartment doesn't allow pets. I don't claim to be famous, but if you knew my full name you would find me on google. I guess I can say that I don't really have anyone serious in my life yet. Let's see if anyone can guess my main profession.
Answers to some comments
Yep, Georgie is awake in that picture. He had been sleeping most of the trip, but he just started dozing off when the photo was taken. If you notice some of the pictures were taken with my Sprint picture phone vs. my Canon Digital Rebel. The scarf photo was one of the phone pictures, so I think the blowup might get grainy. Georgie was recently featured on Channel 9 news on a story about the one of the dog parks which he goes. If I can figure out to get the footage on my computer, I should be posting it.
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Post-christmasbear
I saw this christmas bear decoration up that I had to take a photo of. It was strange because while I was taking it, a stranger came up to me and starting talking to me about art. Apparently, he sketches.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Aegean Tavern on the edge
I never liked the Aegean Tavern much, but this is kind of sad. Because of the construction right next to it, it is on the edge of a ditch that goes down at least 30 feet.
Restaurant at the ditch
Restaurant at the ditch
Saturday, January 01, 2005
New Year's 2005
January 1, 2005 01/01 14:24:44 PM
Trying out Macjournal. Well, I am still recovering from last night. I hung out at Ireland's Four Courts in the Courthouse area with my friend Dave. Also, eating at Flat top Grill worked out really well. Overall, even though it was a late night, it was pretty relaxed. After Four Courts we dropped by Whitlows to try to find Erik. Lastly, we went to the new lounge in Clarendon called Eleventh. It was really bad that Mister Days wanted to charge $10 at 1:00 A.M.
Trying out Macjournal. Well, I am still recovering from last night. I hung out at Ireland's Four Courts in the Courthouse area with my friend Dave. Also, eating at Flat top Grill worked out really well. Overall, even though it was a late night, it was pretty relaxed. After Four Courts we dropped by Whitlows to try to find Erik. Lastly, we went to the new lounge in Clarendon called Eleventh. It was really bad that Mister Days wanted to charge $10 at 1:00 A.M.
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