Utils

I don't remember much from those two econ classes from my earlier college years but one thing I do recall is the concept of marginal utility (probably because Jeff, Greg and I were always making jokes about it). Marginal utility says that when you consume one unit of a particular good or service, satisfaction will decrease from consuming additional units. Take this bag of gummi bears I've been snacking on. The first few I ate were great. The next few, not so much. And so on, till I'm left with half a bag of gummi bears. However, I've found that marginal utility doesn't apply to everything. Using running as another example, the more miles I run, the more I tend to enjoy it.

With the band Sigur Ros, their utility increases with "consumption." Having said that I proudly post these two videos on my blog, "Glósóli" and "Hoppipolla". Maybe you've already seen them; all the more reason to try this marginal utility thing out. For those who haven't seen them, if you're not left with a smile on your face after watching both, then I wouldn't go stand next to any large magnets because you're probably a robot.

Glósóli

Hoppipolla

The combined length of both videos is about 11 minutes; in other words, 11 of the best spent minutes of your day.

(I tried posting them in the blog itself but apparently they won't let you. Psh.)

It's a Rare Condition

It was either Monday or Tuesday night (or early in the morning of one of the days that followed). I can't remember when. I was on a mission. I didn't know what my goal was, even in my dream I didn't know what my goal was; I just knew that I had one.

It was night, the sky was blood red with black clouds. I had travelled through time to a distant past, only to return to a present where the world I knew was turned upside-down, Back to the Future II style. But who was behind this sinister transformation?

I had a sidekick, though I can't remember his name. I wanna say it was Chuck Norris but that's only because he was in an awesome movie called Sidekicks. Except he wasn't the sidekick in that movie. Danica McKeller (The Wonder Years' Winnie Cooper) is also in that movie. I digress. Sidekick and I found ourselves in an unfamiliar suburban family neighborhood. We could hear commotion coming from a nearby backyard so we hopped the fence to check it out.


It didn't take long to discover the source of the commotion. Huddled in a corner of the yard, we observed a pack of feral children, dressed in rags. They seemed to be huddled around something, or rather, someone. As we cautiously approached the gang of seemingly rabid children, we discovered the center of their attention: Famliy Matters' Carl Winslow. We were instantly relieved and we marched boldly toward to the pack of kids. If anyone knew who was behind the evil transformation of our once pleasant world, it was Carl Winslow.

As we came closer to the band of wild kids, they turned to face us almost in unison. We immediately noticed the wild look of hunger in their eyes. Carl Winslow smiled diabolically. Something was wrong and we knew it. However, our curiosity bested us and we contiued our approach in order to satisfy it.

But Carl Winslow and his children (no, not Laura, Eddie, Little Richie, or even Steve Urkell) had something much greater than curiosity to satisfy: hunger. And Carl explained that Sidekick and I were to be their means of satisfaction!

No sooner had we learned of our intended fate did we turn and run, escaping the pack of hungry children and their "father", literally nipping at our heals. Over the fence and through the nearest time portal, we escaped into another, safer dimension.

So what was this mission I was so determined to accomplish? More importantly, what caused Carl Winslow, loving father and one of Chicago PD's finest, to resort to murder and cannibalism, the two things he had fought so hard to eradicate? I have no doubt that the two are somehow linked. But unless I return to that world of my slumber, I may never know. . . .

12 Songs

For a few years now I've considered myself a fan of Neil Diamond, but it's been only recently that I've taken my fandom beyond the superficial level of a 'greatest hits' fan. About a year ago I started buying old vinyls from used book stores and independent record shops. When I started my collection I had no way of playing them; I bought them mostly because I thought old records were cool and it was an inexpensive way of owning a piece of music history. For a while I had access to a record player and it didn't take long before I realized that old vinyls are a great way of discovering new (new to me, at least) music. Synchronicity by The Police is a great example. I bought this album for "Wrapped Around Your Finger", a lesser known hit, but a hit nonetheless, and one of my favorites. After a few listens on the turntable, I realized that I had to own it on CD so I could enjoy in my car and on my iPod. Used vinyls opened a whole new portal for discovering music, and it's a portal that's relatively cheap to step through.

As a result I've started listening to a lot more Neil Diamond. While I do enjoy some of his music from the late 70's and 80's, it never appealed to me as much as songs from his earlier career. For this reason I was hesitant to try out his newest release 12 Songs. (To be honest, I'm thankful for this hesitancy. I don't think I would've appreciated it and enjoyed it if I had heard it 2 years ago when it came out.) I like 12 Songs so much because, like it's title, it's so simple and honest. Just an old man and his guitar. It seems that much of songwriting in popular music today is very impersonal. If a song is written to sell, how likely is it that the artist actually experienced what they are singing about? Pretty slim. (How likely is it that the artist actually even wrote the song? Even slimmer.) Sure, the artist can relate to the song he or she is singing, but it doesn't go any farther than that. 12 Songs is such a convincing album because the songwriting is so genuine and the production is so simple; you get the feeling Neil has actually experienced what he's singing about. In fact, he very well may be in the same room singing it to you.

The bottom line: 12 Songs is an amazing record because it is Neil Diamond.

Samskeyti

The other night I was bored (which is very common when I'm not at work) so I Googled (since when did that become a verb?) "record stores". A small list of stores in the Fremont area came up but the one that most caught my eye was a store called Needle to the Groove, which sells only vinyls. Worried that it might be closed, I hurried to my car and punched the coordinates into my GPS navigator (which I have affectionately named Shilo Desiree, a name derived from two of my favorite Neil Diamond songs). About 10 minutes later I arrived at the shop only to have my worst fears confirmed: it was closed. It's located in one of those small downtown-type areas where everything closes at 5 PM. I made note of their Saturday hours and resolved to return on my day off.

Saturday (yesterday) rolls around and I leave my place around noon, which is when they open. I get to the store only to be met with a new sign on the window, "We will open at 1:00 PM on Saturday." Psh. Not far from the shop I noticed a road called Niles Canyon Road. I had about an hour to kill before I could head back and peruse their vinyls so I decided to try it out. After driving for roughly 10 minutes I came to a town called Sunol (sounds like the title of a Sigur Ros song). I got off the highway and drove through the town. There wasn't much to see so two minutes later I was back on the highway. After a few more minutes of driving, the road forked. I took the smaller of the two roads, Calaveras Road. It wasn't long before the speed limit was reduced to 25 MPH and the two lanes became one. The rest of the road was a series of switchbacks that curved up and down the side of a small hill-like mountain.

I took some pics.

Driving on this road made me feel like I was in a John Steinbeck novel (a lot of his stories are set in California, not too far from here).

I tried getting artistic with the barbed wire. The body of water in the background is Calaveras Resevoir. It's funny, you can always tell when it's a fake lake. Either way, it was still pretty.

The road took me to a town called Milpitas, which is sandwiched between San Jose and Fremont. The part of Milpitas I saw sort of looked like it was in the 70's, which wasn't as cool as it sounds.

I made it back to the record shop. I added Led Zeppelin IV, Rush 2112, and Foreigner Records to my vinyl collection.

Next week: the Forest Moon of Endor.

Nothing's coming

It's been over a month since my last post. Probably a couple reasons for that: I spent the last month away from school so I had little to stimulate my brain and we don't have wireless Internet at home so I was unable to use my laptop (I don't like using our home computer for stuff like this for some reason). I've again changed states and now I'm in California, in the Bay Area near Oakland and San Francisco. The past few days have been kinda boring/lonely, but I'm sure that will change soon when I start my internship on Monday.

I wrote a new jam. I recorded it and another and put them up on crapspace (www.myspace.com/mykeolsen). Here are the lyricals:


Southwestern Hemisphere

Hemispheres and atmospheres
Where the air just isn't quite as clear
Don't waste your breath
Don't say another word
Try to breathe another minute
Try to speak, your heart's not in it
Wasting life or tasting life
Take a trip away from home
A way back home

The memories you thought you'd make
And the promises you'd've had to fake
The curls in her hair
Won't fade
The life that you swore to her
Now buried in that sepulcher
The smile on her face (The taste of her lips)
Won't fade away

Hemispheres and atmospheres
Where the just isn't quite as clear
Wasting life or tasting life
What's the difference?

Names

So Dan and I were listening to a little Cat Stevens tonight, and inspired by his conversion to Islam, we gave ourselves Muslim names. Hope that's not sacreligious. The name I chose is Sayid Suhayb. It means "master, of red hair or complexion." Very appropriate. And Sayid is my favorite character on Lost.

Anyway, I wrote a song. It only took me a few days to write, which is really good cuz it usually takes me weeks/months (or I just don't finish it -- usually the case). Leave feedback; I wanna get good at this so let me know what you think. Also, it doesn't have a name yet -- suggestions are welcome.


Gave your heart
To the first to make you smile
Hold his hand
Hold your breath all the while
Crushed

Try so hard to make it right
Blame yourself again
Just can't seem to find the light
He leaves you in the dark again

Keep him out
It keeps you free
To see the things you wanna see
To be the things you wanna be

Can't let him see that side of you
That mirror that you try to be
Cracked and shattered, pieces fall
Far too many holes

To keep him out
To keep you free
He sees the things you wanna see
He sees the things you wanna be


Shows you what you couldn't see
He's everything you couldn't be

Fingerprints

My favorite class in high school was ceramics. In my beginning ceramics class, while demonstrating how to attach a handle to a mug my teacher told me, “Don’t be afraid to leave your fingerprints on the clay.” As a budding ceramicist, these words changed the way I look at art and the humans who create it. Fingerprints, just like the people who own them, are unique. Too often, we are afraid to leave our “fingerprints” on any type of work we do, whether it be art or otherwise. Afraid of criticism, or maybe just wanting to please society as a whole, we begin to produce works that are bland and common. We cease to be true to ourselves, and we abandon our convictions and beliefs in the name of objectivity or open-mindedness. We’re suddenly afraid to “leave our fingerprints on the clay.”

Whether intentional or not, we leave small pieces of ourselves in everything we create. Critics are quick to point out these so-called flaws; quick to give their opinion why a piece of art should contain certain elements other than the ones portrayed by the artist. To suggest such is to say that the artist herself should have blond hair instead of brown; she should be 5’3” instead of 5’7”. An innumerable amount of characteristics makes up the individuality of a human being. And to criticize such an individual’s creations, artistic or otherwise, is to deny them the right to be human.

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody." -- Bill Cosby