Caws Radio

oh, sleepy. so sleepy.

I just set a new personal record for falling asleep in class. Not for longevity, but for frequency. I must've had 20 10-second naps during history of photography. I hate that class. History of photography should be fun and interesting, not 'read 8 chapters and write 3 journal entries every damn week with an essay on top and a dash of idiotic group work.'

So Caws Pobi has begun recording again. Sometime last week I said "Dammit, Caws! We gotta make shit happen!" And he crawled out from under a pile of empty beer bottles and said "Yesh. Catywhompous catydids." I'm thinking now that I'm just going to record whatever I feel should be recorded and then compile it all, including old stuff and the scrapped blues-album stuff, into one album. And wouldn't you know, just when I decide this Chad shows up and borrows the Music Generator again. But that's phine. Recently I've been producing little experiments using just my guitar, my voice and lots of Acid effects. The other night a vocal experiment grew into an actual song, the result sounding something like T.Rex and Ween on a sinking sailboat.

And I have the inspiration of some new things going on, like my new roomate and my new classes and new people and new social circles. This term I have all my classes (except Japanese) in the Fairbanks art building. This place is not completely new to me, but going there every day for classes is new.

And here is a new story: This afternoon I wandered into the temporary installation room to find a large wooden sphere with speakers and gizmos all over it which were connected to a computer. When I walked in, a big old bell connected to the computer sounded my entrance. Hung on the walls of the room were sheets of white paper with words written over words written over words, and each mass of words was composed in a keen geometric shape. On one side of the room atop three pedestals were old velvet-interior suitcases, opened to show loafs and slices of bread. In a corner of the room there was a short balding man in a green polo shirt writing a new word-mass. He said to me "I'm just about to leave, otherwise I'd give you the long and short of what this is all about." To him I replied "I don't think I want to know. Right now this is all great because I don't understand any of it. It creates an enclosed atmosphere of confusion, which is awesome." The guy was Sebastian Mendes, and both he and his room were new.

I was accompanied in the machine-bread-bell room by Miki, who is in my aforementioned photography class. Miki is friends with Candace, and they are part of a new circle I have been associating with. New people are good, but as I learned earlier today, old people you haven't seen for a while are also good, especially when that person is a girl you used to have a crush on who is visiting America for a week and now speaks great English and is happy to see you. I knew her before, but her personality today was new.

But aside from the news, last night there was some craziness going on in and around my apartment involving Jose and a fight at Sanchos and some cops and some beer in the bush and Chad and Joel. That kind of stuff is not new, but it's still good.


Rad.