7/4

I wonder if a postal inspector would be interested in this case. They are pretty powerful.

I've been wearing the computer glasses more and I'm getting used to the change. It's nice to be able to read books and magazines again, I didn't know what the problem was these last few years.

His birthday is March 9th.

The Magic Band, Cream, Hemdrix, Cream, Led Zeppelin....

I hear she's Shirley Jones' daughter Damm, I used that one at the norahjones.whatever board and no one even got it. WTF, young audience.

No. And he's talking a bit slower than in past years. All but two minutes of the Bix I heard today were him chatting away. I learned stuff from these bday broadcasts in the past, but at this point I don't need to feel like I'm in a class I didn't pay for! I'm tuning in for the music. Maybe he could start a web page to document all this history...

I think it's amazing. Great transfer, cool little booklet.

You joke, but I have heard it on a jukebox, in NYC recently.

That last section's melody reminded me of a track off of Science Fiction, the one with the Indian singer.

Cool. Enjoy....

Same here. At least we're past the Phil Schaap part of the day. I used to like him, but he's taking FOREVER to tell a story these days! Sheesh! I want to pratice, but it looks like I'll be listening to SOA for now.

After another day with these things, I think it's the shock of putting on the regular glasses and everything close gets fuzzy. I guess I'll get used to these things...

Ha! When I was a kid, my older sisters "baby sat" the high school bio labs white rat. We kept it in a cage in the basement, and our cat wouldn't go to the basement all summer. We lived in the NJ suburbs and I guess the cat just didn't know WTF the rat was!

Ornette Coleman (b. March 9, 1930) and a birthday broadcast on http://wkcr.org 'til midnight. I'm listening now via real audio. B)

I don't know what's worse, the nail or the bloody book.

Ah! I searched around in my trash bin and found this spam:

I think that stairing at the computer all day isn't helping any!

This was suggested by a friend, I guess I'll check 'em out.

At least he's not wearing lampshades!

NYTIMES: Spalding Gray, 62, Actor and Monologuist, Is Confirmed Dead By JESSE McKINLEY Published: March 8, 2004 Spalding Gray, the wry monologuist and actor who transformed his personal experiences, fascinations and traumas into such acclaimed pieces as "Swimming to Cambodia" and "Monster in a Box,"was confirmed dead today, two months after his wife reported him missing, a spokeswoman for the city medical examiner's office said. He was 62. Mr. Gray's body was pulled from the East River near Greenpoint, Brooklyn, on Sunday and was identified through dental records, said the spokeswoman, Ellen Borakove. The authorities did not provide the cause of death. Mr. Gray, who had been battling depression, was reported missing on Jan. 11, a day after he had left his apartment in Manhattan and never returned. He had told his family that he was going to see friends. Several witnesses told detectives investigating the disappearance that they had seen Mr. Gray aboard the Staten Island Ferry on the night of Jan. 10, the police said. Almost always seated behind a simple desk, with a glass of water, a microphone and some notes, Mr. Gray practiced the art of storytelling with a quiet mania, alternating between conspiratorial whispers and antic screams as he roamed through topics large and small. This talent was perhaps never better displayed than in "Swimming to Cambodia," his 1984 monologue in which his experiences filming a small role in the movie "The Killing Fields" became a jumping-off point for exploring the history and culture of war in Southeast Asia. The piece was itself turned into a noted film, directed by Jonathan Demme, in 1987. "Swimming" may have been Mr. Gray's most famous work, but for 25 years, he turned out a consistent stream of well-crafted, well-received pieces on subjects as varied as writing ("Monster in a Box," 1990) and illness ("Gray's Anatomy," 1993), to less-weighty issues like learning to ski ("It's a Slippery Slope," 1996) and performing while high on LSD ("Point Judith," 1980). His relentless self-absorption drew a broad range of audiences, from those at such high-end, 1,000-seat theaters as the Vivian Beaumont at Lincoln Center (where he produced four shows during the 1990's) to downtown crowds at the 100-seat theaters at the Performing Garage and P.S. 122, two performance spaces where he typically fine-tuned his monologues. While his performances resembled — and influenced — the confessional style of contemporaries like Eric Bogosian and John Leguizamo, Mr. Gray's work also displayed an instinctive curiosity and taste for first-person research, turning his life travels and travails into a type of closely observed,— and publicly performed, autobiography. A self-confessed depressive, he reportedly attempted suicide at least once before in recent years, Mr..Gray had a common refrain in many of his monologues: a search for larger meaning, a quest, as he put it, for "the perfect moment." The monologues were also, for the record, usually painfully funny. "He is a sit-down monologuist with the comic sensibility of a stand-up comedian," Mel Gussow wrote in The New York in 1981 in a review of "47 Beds," a chronicle of all the beds, and continents, Mr. Gray had slept in. "He describes in vivid detail his search for self-discovery, and then laughs at himself and needles nirvana." One of three sons, Mr. Gray was born on June 5, 1941, in Barrington, R.I. His father was a factory worker, and his mother a homemaker; Mr. Gray referred to himself as "a Rhode Island WASP," raised in a house he depicted as rife with repression, depression and all kinds of neurosis. Perhaps as a reaction to that, Mr. Gray, tall and lanky with an awkward charm, began acting in high school; by his mid-20's that interest had blossomed into a modest career as an actor on the regional theater circuit. In 1967 Mr. Gray moved to New York and soon emerged as an active member of the city's then-thriving downtown experimental theater scene. In 1970 he joined director Richard Schechner's influential troupe, the Performance Group, and in 1973, appeared in the New York premiere of "Tooth of Crime," by Sam Shepard.

Here's the deal: Like our topic, I'm 44. Instead of bifocals, I got a pair of computer glasses. I wear them and everything in few foot radius looks so sharp, kind of hyper-reality. Far off, it's fuzzy. When I put my new "regular" near-sited glasses on it takes a few min. before things clear up and they work. And nothing looks as sharp as the computer glasses. WTF, is there always an adjustment time between glasses? This is really fucking with my head....and eyes.

I'm not having any problems. Using Mozilla 1.6 Are your cookies for this site turned on?

Garbage in, garbage out.

And man! I really hated that song!