Something That Happened.

It's Halloween, very nearly my favorite holiday. I won't be doing a whole lot this year--no Halloween parties, no trip to Knott's Scary Farm or Disneyland's Haunted Mansion, no spending the night in an abandoned graveyard--just a quiet night watching horror movies rented from the video store. That's all right with me, though--I took the journey to visit mom yesterday and today I've just wanted to relax. I also drank some prune juice and started a high-fiber diet today, so it probably wouldn't be a great idea for me to go anywhere anyway. I imagine the other people on the bus wouldn't appreciate that too much.

(July 2008 update: The service which used to host this audio is no longer in business, so this link will not work the way it was originally intended.)

"Open Source Schizo" (mp3 audio post; stream or 15.2MB download)

Failing to exhibit showmanship in a monologue about open source, I am interrupted and harassed by someone intimately familiar...

"(Somewhat) Traditional Radio Program" (mp3 audio post; stream or 23.3MB download)

So I recorded a longer audio piece tonight, live and on-the-fly. Somewhat along the lines of a traditional radio program. Somewhat.

There's only so much a person can do. There's only so much a person can possibly do - there's only so much time and so much energy - and then the day is done or you fall asleep or drop dead from exhaustion or something. So you've gotta give it up for this guy, who is spending much of his time recording, editing and posting a fresh video every single day on his blogsite, Momentshowing.

His name is Jay Dedman, and he's on a self-inflicted challenge of posting 90 videos in 90 days. That's more difficult than it sounds - it's not nearly as easy to post video (or audio, for that matter) to your website as it is to open up your blog manager and type a daily entry, which can take all of 30 seconds. Posting video, at least at this stage of the game, takes a variety of steps to perform, some of which can be extremely complicated. You have to record the video, first of all, which is perhaps the easiest step unless you are trying to outdo Vittorio Storaro or something. Then you have to import the video to your favorite editing program and make it presentable. Then you have to encode it for the web, upload it to your server and make it available to the world so they can watch it. The process is time-consuming and can be extremely difficult.

So why does he do it? If I asked Jay, I imagine the man would say because it's fun. Read his bio and you'll find evidence to support this. Jay Dedman is genuinely enthusiastic about videoblogging, using his background working at a community television station to take his experiences to the web. His passion for web video and its potential is nearly as intense as my passion for web audio - nearly, I say, because I'm not certain anyone is as passionate about web audio's potential as I am. Still, you can see how dedicated the man is - just watch a few minutes of Momentshowing and I'm sure you'll agree.

I hope nobody took offense at my latest podcast (audio webcast); it included some racy material near the end of part two. The piece is based on a recorded telephone conversation between my friend and I regarding his current occupation. The piece, entitled "Dream Job" and currently in two parts, is available here (pt.1) and here (pt.2).

Nobody has complained or anything; I'm just trying to drum up some controversy here. Still, you may truly be offended by the piece, and you have every right to be - but don't think for a second that I'm going to take the fuckin' thing down!

"Dream Job pt.2" (mp3 audio post; stream or 5.7MB download)

(July 2008 Update: The link posted here is no longer a good one.)

"Dream Job" (mp3 audio post; stream or 2.3MB download)

Recently my uncle was watching a segment on 60 Minutes about a relatively little-known disorder called Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, and he realized that my mom's condition vividly presented all the symptoms of this disorder. Remarkably, people with this disorder sometimes fully recover from their illness. On October 13 I spoke about my reaction to this news in a pair of audio posts.

In case you missed them, here are links to the posts:

• audio post #1
• audio post #2

I live down the street from the UCLA Medical Center, and having found out that the hospital houses a doctor with experience working with Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, I attempted to contact this doctor to find out about getting mom tested for the disorder. I didn't get very far, however; the receptionist/assistant I spoke with rejected us on the grounds that mom's medical insurance wouldn't cover the test. (Mom has Medi-Cal, California's version of Medicare.) That's the bad news. The good news is that the receptionist/assistant referred us to Harbor-UCLA, the county medical center, where apparently the same doctor does some time. So if we can get mom in there, we'd eventually be able to see the same doctor...

...so I immediately contacted mom's social work and doctor to get mom referred to Harbor-UCLA. That's our current course of action. I'll keep you posted.

"Vent" (mp3 audio post; stream or 5.8MB download)

I had a good run followed by a tasty plate of Korean food, and now I feel a bit better. With all the Red Rooster hot sauce I had, though, I'll probably get a good case of The Runs later. Still, I feel better than I did earlier today--probably, in part, to the girl being home from work now. Funny how I'm even considering the possibility that I was lonely today; I rarely have a problem being alone. I don't need to be surrounded by lots of people. I was an only child, so I grew up appreciating my time alone. I love my time alone--and though sometimes I love being with lots of people (big parties come to mind, Disneyland, concerts), most of the time I prefer my privacy.

Yesterday when I arrived at the ATM machine and began digging around for a deposit envelope I realized there was someone close behind me--a couple of men, as it turned out, in uniform, one carrying a gun in hand in front of an armoured van and instantly I knew who they were but still, I was flustered, and I turned back toward the machine but it seemed that they were in a hurry to get on with what they were about to do and so I turned back toward them--cautiously and trying not to make any quick, jerky movements because I had a heightened awareness of that gun poised just within my line of vision, hanging there in a tight grip--and before I could say anything the uniform closest to me exhorted gruffly (or perhaps not gruffly but toughly), "What do you want to do?" and I walked away without using the ATM.

I wasn't sure I wanted to use the machine right then anyway, since I still had to make a trip into a branch and then would probably be returning to the ATM to make another deposit anyway, but I'm certain what really stopped me from going through with that transaction was the gun. It's not everyday that someone with a tensely-held handgun is hovering close behind you while you have money in your hands. Though the men are simply doing their jobs, and protecting that very money that I'm depositing, it's scary when you think that any number of things can go wrong: I make a quick and uncertain movement that catches the guard off-guard and he reactively raises the gun to my chest and...sure, they're trained for this stuff, and we like to think they're trained well, but you know how easily things can go wrong...

I don't feel so well. Just kind of down, dragging myself around, going through the motions...I feel heavy, literally and figuratively. I've been eating too much junk food and now I've got gas. I stink and I don't feel like exercising. I don't like it when I'm this way; I feel like I'm sitting in a pile of my own shit.

(Continued from audio post)

Then, we went to the bus stop, mom and I, and we waited for the bus as I called her nursing home to let them know we were running late. It was nearly 7:30, and the administrator I spoke with told me that it would be a good idea to have mom home by 8; the doors would be locked after that. I debated whether to continue waiting for the bus or to attempt walking mom home. Mom was noticeably exhausted; I hadn't kept her out this late for a very long time--at least since last year. Though we only had a mile left, I wasn't sure how much strength she had left in her. Her head was nodding, and her footing was beginning to get more unstable than usual.

I had no idea how long the bus would take to arrive, though, and didn't want to take the chance that we'd arrive at her home after the doors had been locked. So, after a few more minutes of deliberation, I finally took mom's hand and helped her to her feet, and we began to walk home.

We didn't get far, however, not walking--for once we reached the railroad tracks about a hundred yards down the road, I took a chance and flagged a passing bus. The bus had an "Out of Service" sign lit up above its windshield, but the driver stopped the bus for us anyway. The bus operator opened the door and asked us how far were going. "Down the street a bit," I said, "About a mile." The driver beckoned for us to climb aboard, and she drove us home.