Author: Aaron Weber

Police Power

Friend of mine seems to be in trouble with the law, although he’s not sure why. Apparently the FBI just showed up at the door and displayed a warrant and took away his computers (yes, plural, he’s a programmer). They left his ipod but kept the cable. Word from friends who have had the same treatment is that you’ll never get the machines back, so you might as well just write them off and buy new ones. All I have is questions.

Does insurance pay for things that the government impounds for investigation? I mean, what about a rental for while you’re waiting for the old one back? How do you get to work if your car is impounded and there’s no bus? Is this how police departments get their IT equipment? Maybe they were just crooks impersonating FBI agents? I’d have wanted proof– maybe you could call 911 and ask. Is there an FBI hotline for things like this? “What the fuck do you want from me?” I mean, do you need to file a FOIA request just to find out why you’re being arrested? Can you file such a request from prison? Can you it up online once they’ve taken away your internet access?

I guess this really is a police state after all. Maybe I should really reconsider that Canada thing. Montreal can’t be much colder than this, and condos are cheaper there by a long shot anyway. On the other hand, freedom of speech in Canada is badly broken.

More on Feeling Permanent

I joked awhile ago that, on the one hand, I really hate the idea of moving again, but on the other hand, my girllfriend doesn’t like eggplant, and that may be a real showstopper there. Some of my readers may have taken this as sincere advice. Neither vegetable preference nor the inconvenience of moving is a good indicator of relationship quality. I regret any confusion my previous statement may have called.

In addition, it has been brought to my attention that no-limit poker is probably not an adequate metaphor for a relationship. Love is not about losing or winning, and barely about chance at all. Nor does someone else having “a better hand” ever really come into it. It’s right, I am told, when you know that you prefer your partner to any other, no matter what, when if you could see or know all the options, you’d stick with yours anyway. There is no definitive best, after all, and you’re not going to lay down your cards and lose– you just walk on hand in hand. And if someone has a better relationship, it’s not really a reflection on you. There are no prizes outside of the satisfaction of the relationship itself. It’s not a fucking contest, Aaron.

Will I be pretty, will I be rich? Que será será….

Winner

Finally, I get to make a post for which comment-spam won’t be off-topic: reviews of the latest GSK products. I love how marketing messaging for big pharma can get into Iraqi-minister-of-information levels of denial:

I asked Fleming … is the football-through-tire image almost too on the nose, in a legal sense?
“I don’t think anyone has drawn that comparison,” he said, totally deadpan.
Honestly, you’ve never heard anyone compare the football-through-tire thing to, um, doing it?
“I’ve never heard that.”

If he had, it would make the ad an “indicated” ad, meaning it would require information about how you’re likely to get a heart attack or AIDS or something if you use the drug improperly (say, to fuel weekend-long sex binges).

Sangiovese

I recently tasted two mid-priced sangiovese wines– the 1999 Ca’ Del Solo from Bonny Doon, $15.99 at Mall Discount Liquors, and the 2000 Monte Antico, $9.99 at the same shop.

The Sangiovese (“Jupiter’s Blood”) grape produces a big, deep-red wine– not as purple as a Malbec, but rich in color and similarly rich in flavor. It’s not the most common of Italian wine varieties, but an increasing interest in varietals means that it’s getting up there– it’s not a Chianti, but it’s more well-known than, say, Nebbiolo, and more widely grown outside of Italy– such as in, say, Bonny Doon’s vineyards in California.

The Monte Antico was what I expect a Sangiovese to be: rich, tangy, and delicious. It smells like a big, flavorful wine, and it has plenty of body. The Bonny Doon was a real disappointment: thin-bodied, not enough flavor, too light on the tannins– it was OK, but not really interesting. It improved with air, but not enough to make me want to buy it again, not for fifteen bucks anyway. I’m definitely considering getting a case of the Monte Antico though, especially given that Mall Discount has a 20% case discount through the end of January.

Tbe first part

OK, here’s the first few bits of my translation. Let me know what you think. The book is called Hijo de Ladrón, which translates to Son of a Burglar, or Son of a Thief. There was an English translation published as “Born Guilty” in the early sixties, but it sold poorly, and Rojas didn’t see a dime of it, and it’s now out of print and nearly impossible to find. The novel is the first of four about a young man who grows into an increasing awareness of himself and his place in society as the son of a thief, as a writer, and as a political being in the linotypists union. It’s semi-autobiographical, based partly on Rojas’ life and partly on the lives of people he knew. It includes a number of historical events, most notably the Valparaiso trolley riots which immediately precede the arrest which sets the scene for the novel. I’ll post more as I get further along.

If you have comments on the style (stilted? too many commas?) or on the content itself, please do let me know.
Continue reading “Tbe first part”

Blogs and Real Life

I find out occasionally that people read this, and am always amazed by it. Apparently someone from NPR read my post about quirkyalones and how much
Bookdwarf finds the whole concept repugnant, and looked her up at Harvard Bookstore, and now my beautiful Bookdwarf might get a chance to be on the radio! She’s supposed to call the NPR person back this Monday.

The NPR person is apparently doing research on quirkyalone-ness. I hope she’s trying to debunk the whole phenomenon. Because, really, not only is this a book and a website and a quiz, but it’s a fraud. When did being weird and single suddenly become a movement? Was it when people began to fear for the sanctity of marriage that others began to fear for the sanctity of singlehood? Look, I’m glad you have an identity, but did you need to make it a club?

For crying out loud, the quirkyalone thing is just like Metrosexual Guide to Style and the Official Preppy Handbook and all the other pseudo-guides-to-life out there: annoying almost-funny impulse-buy crap you get as a gift for someone you don’t actually like that much.

Fear and Poker

I try to keep money and emotions apart. If I’m playing cards, I try to avoid thinking “I’ve got five bucks in, so I should keep betting” — after all, if you have a bad hand, you’re throwing good money after bad. But forming a household is the ultimate combination of everything you have and feel and know. It’s betting with everything you have, with incomplete information, depending on luck and gut feelings and emotional strength.

Early on in a relationship, in the back of your mind there’s the little voice saying hey, no problem, if the going gets tough I can bail without too much penalty. But at some point you realize you are very much invested in the whole relationship: emotions, obviously, but also time and money and everything material. And what ties your physical and financial ship to the other person is this completely intangible web of trust and respect and love.

At that point, you really have too much in the pot to just fold. This is the territory that so many men try so hard and so irrationally to avoid, it’s the reason they inexplicably stop returning calls. The little voice in your head starts worrying: if you break up, who gets the vacuum and the pets and the plants, who gets the friends? We’re both on the lease, what if I’m stuck paying two rents? We bought a bed together, and what will I sleep on? And if you start thinking about buying a car or a house together, and you sign on a debt together, then you have to know This is Permanent. This is a No Matter What kind of situation. This is why they say better or worse, this is why breaking up is just harder and harder, and you really have combined your entire spiritual, emotional, financial, material life with that of another person.

At this point, you better look at your cards and be able to say honestly, this this is the best hand I’ve ever seen, this is the best hand I can imagine. I will play this hand to the bitter end and I will bet everything and I will win big. That’s a scary moment when you’re playing poker with friends and there’s ten bucks in the pot, and when you’re playing for everything in a game you don’t really understand, it keeps you up at night.

I don’t know when it stops, but I guess at some point the decision is made, and it feels right, and things work out, and then you can sleep at night and know you’ve won, and instead of playing poker you can play hearts, or maybe Scrabble, which isn’t so nerve-wracking, and allows you to sit around the couch with your family and friends and forget to keep score.