Headed to the Ren Fair next week, but sadly... my old traditional kilt doesn't fit me too well any more. Any sane man would just wear his Utilikilt instead. But, I, not be terribly sane (or, for that matter, very manly) have undertaken to make myself a new kilt.



I'm almost done with the pleats; 9 more (out of 36) to go. That's the toughest part so I should be done in about two or three days. I've spent all the spare time I have sitting at a table in my living room, hunched over my work, hand sewing to the rhythm of Battlestar Galactica. I started at the mini-series and am now on episode six of season 2... I think that I'll have to switch to Robot Chicken soon...

I haven't been sleeping well, for days now. It's been taking me hours to get to sleep and it's driving me insane. So, I got up to entertain myself with the vastness of the internet, so I sit in front of the screen and just stare... I can't even find decent distraction. I think I'm a bit depressed.
So, here I am at my much ignored journal. Sure, I check up on my friends every now and again but for the most part I don't post. I feel like I have little of importance to say that I wouldn't just confide in one or two people.
There is my problem, right there; I'm not likely to post anything here I wouldn't say out loud in a room full of people. I don't think it's my nature speak my private thoughts out loud. Ultimately, I'm sure that's just because I think people would be pissed with me, or think me ultimately just shallow.
But I think I'll keep it if for now if for no other reason than to see what the people I care about are saying and feeling. Maybe there'll come a time that they'll inspire me to post more often.

I was in California at the NAMM show this January when I ran into a Singer/Songwriter/Cellist named Lindsay Mac. She's a classically trained, conservatory musician who put her bow down one day and started strumming. She has a really cool percussive technique that I dig utterly.
Anyway, I was sitting around yesterday when a friend called and said she was playing a house concert later on. So I got to see her play live again. And she was even more impressive than I remember.
So check out her web site: http://www.lindsaymac.com

I was at the bank on Saturday and there was a bit of a wait. There was a middle-aged black woman directly in front of me at one teller and a middle-aged white man at the teller to her left.
The woman, has a lot of stuff with her and sets it on the counter; three bags, all stuffed to over-flowing. At some point, she steps away from the teller window and goes to talk with one of the customers behind me in line. I hear her telling this other lady that she is a local activist. I don't paying to much attention to the exchange 'cause I am a little annoyed thinking that she will leave the teller waiting while she chats.
Meanwhile, in front of me, the man is talking to his teller (Teller Two), who then turns to the black woman's teller (teller One) and asks a question. Teller One then addresses the man directly. But she is standing behind a 3 inches of Plexiglas, and unless you are right in front of her, it can be hard to hear. So the man steps over to Teller One's window to ask her what she's just said.
They speak for about ten seconds before the woman comes back.]
"Excuse me, Excuse me... Excuse me!", she says, loudly enough that everyone in the room turns to look.
The man turns, a little surprised, and says "Pardon me..." politely while taking a step back.
She acts very indignant, shaking her head and giving Teller One a Can-You-Believe-This-Guy kinda look.
The man nervously moves back over to Teller Two's window to finish his business. When he's done move back toward the woman.
"Look, I'm sorry, Ma'am. I was just try to here what the teller was saying... Do you understand?" He says this while reaching toward her with what I interpret as an apologetic gesture.
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!"
He flinches, then his face goes kinda blank. "...You are absolutely right. I don't know you. God bless you, Ma'am." He walks out.
The woman looks around for support "Those people are taking liberty!" No one says a word. She continues to mutter to herself as she gathers her things and leaves. As I step up to the window, I share glances with both tellers. We're all black. None of us can believe what we've just been witness to.

I'm fairly certain that the only racist in that room was the very indignant woman.

So, yeah... Phaedrus.
  Well I like to read a lot. And back about ten years ago I ended up with a copy of "Zen and th Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." I read it about half way and then gave up. Though I consider myself to somewhat intelligent, I didn't have much grounding in philosophy.
 So, I picked up again a  few years later. Great book. Very surprising really. It's non fiction, but not very informative about Zen, or motorcycle repair.
 The whole point here thought is that that the author refers to himself, or rather an early version of himself as Phaedrus. Earlier in his live he goes though a massive transformation, and then feels that he needs, at least within the context of the book, to distinguish between the two personas.
 I'd like to think that I was somehow able to make a transformation between my first attempt to read the book and the second. I changed my own name in that interval in order to change the way I felt about myself. I left everything that was comfortable in my life at the time to travel on the Renaissance Festival circuit, and in the process became, I think, a fuller person.
 That, and when I was in high school, I fell in love with a girl named Phaedra...

-Phaedrus

  I swore I'd never do this. I professed to loathe LJ and it's ilk. But as all people who have extreme viewpoints do I chose between willful adamance or a graceful recant. So... here's my LJ.
 I will try to make an occasional update but I am notoriously bad at such things (likely another reason I railed against LJ for so long). But It was worth to me to keep up with some of my friend who communicate in few other ways.
 -Phaedrus