Fashon sense for the elderly

My summer job here at the Chautauqua Institution involves setting up various classrooms and fixing issues with TVs, Overhead Projectors, Slide Projectors, etc. I work with an older man a few days a week, and for the most part we work together in the same way that I would work with someone my own age. However, the other day I looked down at his shoes, and our age difference became apparent. He was wearing what I would consider the classic "old man shoes" (no offense intended if my readers are worried that they may fall into this category). These shoes were (once) white, generally unappealing, and dusted lightly with mud. They looked like they came out of the bargain bin at a payless shoes...but I digress. What really interested me when I noticed his shoes was that they prominently featured the Nike Swoosh. The immediate question that came to my mind was why would Nike make these shoes? and also having decided to make these ugly shoes, why would they stamp a huge Nike logo on them? I wonder if Nike has a marketing team that is charged with providing shoes to bargain bin shoppers and others who would like to make it clear to the world that they don't care how dirty their shoes are, they want you to slow down when you are riding your bike! And stop playing that blasted rap music so loud.

I can just imagine the ad campaign...

Relations to 'Home' : the urge to travel

The following is an excerpt from Sir Richard Burton's translation of the Tales From A Thousand and One Nights (which I am currently reading). comments to follow...

"Travel! and thou shalt find new friends for old ones left behind;
Toil! for the sweets of human life by toil and moil are found:
The stay-at-home no honour wins nor aught attains but want;
So leave thy place of birth and wander all the world around!
I've seen, and very oft I've seen, how standing water stinks,
And only flowing sweetens it and trotting makes it sound:
And were the moon for ever full and ne'er to wax or wane,
Man would not strain his watchful eyes to see its gladsome round;
Except the lion leave his lair he ne'er would fell his game;
Except the arrow leave the bow ne'er had it reached its bound:
Gold-dust is dust the while it lies untravelled in the mine,
And aloes-wood mere fuel is upon its native ground:
And gold shall win his highest worth when from his goal ungoal'd;
And aloes sent to foreign parts grows costlier than gold.

Impressions of concerts for different generations

I just realized how different age-significant aspects of culture can be from generation to generation. I am referring specifically to music at the moment, but I believe the idea could apply equally to other cultural expressions. I realized tonight at a concert (Switchfoot) at Chautauqua Institution that I would consider fairly entertaining (if a bit generic) and very tame alt-rock, and yet I realize that what I consider a 'clean, soft alt-rock' performance will be seen by those on the other side of a cultural-age barrier a 'Rock Concert' (in a bad way).

This concert is most likely very difficult for an older audience to enjoy not only because of different musical tastes but because of the attitudes and actions of the audience and the band. The atmosphere of the show is effected by interactions between the audience, the band, and the venue.

...more to follow on Chautauqua as a venue (past and future)...

Decisions, decisions, decisions

To Mac or not to Mac, that is the question...

My trusty Dell Inspiron 8600 has lasted me through 4 years of college (with a few minor injuries) and overall I have been happy with it. I have worked with both PCs and Macs over the years and I have tended to prefer owning PCs in the past because of software compatibility. However, it seems that those sorts of worries are becoming a thing of the past and more and more I recognize the value of the OS X operating system and Mac hardware (especially when compared to Vista!). As it comes time to leave my old (trusty) laptop behind and make an electronic fresh start in law school I am more than tempted to invest my hard earned graduation-gift dollars in a Macbook Pro. I would have to install a copy of Windows XP on it using either parallels or vmware because the test taking software at UCLA law requires Windows, but I would enjoy the flexibility of having two OSs available. Still I pause at the price point. The Macbook Pro is equivalent to a mid-high end Dell or Lenovo in terms of hardware and performance but they are SO much more expensive!! For the $2500 that I would spend on a Macbook Pro with Applecare (absolutely necissary for an Apple product...) I could buy one of these fancy new Dell Studio notebooks completely maxed out with a Blue-Ray player and 256 MB ATI graphics card. I mean really Apple? Really? I guess it is easy to overcharge when everyone seems to accept the Macbook as a superior product but really? REALLY???

That is all for now...decision pending

Whats up!? This is my first mobile post!

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Poetry Portfolio Spring 2008 - 2

This picture is worth two words, Andy

Alan Butler

You stole this photo from a girlfriend.

Mr Warhol the crook

soaked it like acid tabs

and dripped that down your throat

had a damn good night too

shut up, sit down

Mr Nixon, purple mouth

give in, voted down

tie arrow, blue lies

blue enema and fellacic scratching

you widened his mouth, sexual

bits of orange and red,

pencil marks?

Why not a fake mustache?

Is this what your generation paid for

Campbell’s soup, clan accusations

a new, bright hairdue?

I might expect more from you

as a child

iconic American visionary

but you expected more from us

we didn’t

vote down, stop hate

free love, no war

we didn’t hear the colors of your scream

bad-acid-dream red

you must have had quite a headache after that night

A-Whar, seriously.

Poetry Portfolio Spring 2008 - 1

The year of everysummer

Alan Butler

I coast down,

air ripping past my lips

arms at my sides.

I always follow a particular path

around the Amp, next to the Athenaeum

off the asphalt and over that stone grate.

It sends me into the clear air

further each time, breaching the skyline

another hundred feet

and I would be in the lake.

This was the first summer

that I fell in love

A crush, shared

that special kind of not-love

teenagers always seem to find.

She was mine, I thought,

for at least a few hours

in the back of the concert

fingers intertwined like writhing snakes.

Then it was over.

It seems like that was every summer,

the one when I was fourteen

that’s where all my memories come from.

I can’t place my most nostalgic moments:

my best friends, my first kiss, seeing the Village People

anywhere else. Even the bad parts:

heartbreak, outrage, a bike thrown into the lake.

I return to that place, physically

and remember those days

with scattered accuracy.

I am tied to it spiritually

and in a way I will always be

gliding along smoothly

hands on the not-handlebars

hearing my heart whistling.

It Begins!

Hello World...this is my first entry!

I will hopefully be updating this site at least once a week with new thoughts and questions. I will try to post my various writings (research, poetry, etc) as they are completed.

Currently on my book list: Arabian Nights, Shadow of the Giant.