Not again. (These Clams are off the Shelf)

We apologize for the lack of updates. We're all moving, as in, yes, in 30 some hours I will be awoken angrily from my bed to get on a plane to go back to college, and my guess is my colleagues have some driving to do between now and Thursday.

That was a couple days ago.  Now, I'm sitting in the kitchen/hangout space in a rather palatial windfall of a friend of ours, watching Zach pick up chicken for what we hope will soon be prefixed with General Tso's. We've arrived. Tom hasn't, but he's got his reasons, most of them involving not finding an apartment in NYC.

It's a neat little affair, this whole, watching your friends make food as a group. The result may not be as good as some of the other General Tso's I've had, but love, next to hunger, is the best spice. I've only cooked pasta and other small things before in my life, so just watching this resolves me to learn how to cook. How long that lasts, I couldn't tell you. I hope this is one of those memories that people think about when they speak of their olden college days. They're now doing the twist, to the sweet, sweet sounds of a remix of the venerable song. This rules.

What does not rule is crushing hot peppers and then trying to rub something out of my eyes. If it is not already clear, I have no goddamn idea what am doing in a kitchen. As if to heal my eyes, the old song "Moonlight Shadow"  comes on, and indulges my taste for bright, shiny jpop. Thank Heaven for those little bits of grace.  I think Help! is on now. I was once told that I just assume any song that songs vaguely like the 60s is the Beatles, and I don't remember putting up much of an argument.  Times and I have changed, but I'm still happy I could get away with a little bit of
insolence. It makes me smile. Also, there's some fairly awesome ska on the stereo right now. 
No words so far. Horns are just so and the pace appropriately manic for quazi-third wave. Also, a bouncy, swinging piano line. Bits of double bass! YAY!

Packing and unpacking for a week now just burns me out on putting things in their right places. I've made my bed, and there's still boxes in my way, no matter where I go. My computer, with its attendant files and music arrived today, and for once in my life, I have not pounced upon setting it back up. I owe Zach a thank you for letting me use his, if nothing else.

Zach Marx here. I have the helm now, and I apologize for nothing!* I do intend to update more often once I've settled in, but right now I'm visitng seventy million classes and trying to talk myself out of taking Math, Math-Physics, Physics, Physics and Economics in the same semester.


*Among the things I do not apologize for: terrible clam puns, lack of updates, usurpation, taunts, optimism, pride and an unwavering belief in the future.


James is wrong about the General Tso's, by the way. It was far mightier and more flavorful than any restaurant could dream of, and its spices were beyond compare. Although he is absolutely right when he claims that love is the best spice. That and hunger. Love, hunger, and the tears of your enemies. No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition.

In between visiting a million classes and emailing all the friendly professors I know for advice, I have been playing Bioshock in short bursts. I'm still in the first few levels of the game, but you should expect a review any day now. Thus far, it makes me happy and angry in equal part, but contains surprisingly few moments of overwhelming joy. Then again, I have been telling myself that the resolution I am forced to run the game at is justified by my character having lost his glasses in the plane crash.

It might just be that I was expecting too much from the game, but it doesn't seem to be as revolutionary as it should be, and the narrative, particularly the main character's actions, feel too forced and... video-game-y. Maybe it will become better as the game deepens and lengthens, and I'm doing my best to withhold judgment. Many parts of it are amazing and awesome, and the overall atmosphere is incredible, as is the backstory behind the characters, but their immediate interactions feel somehow, undeniably off, like a party where no one is actually comfortable and enjoying themselves, so they all do those things that they know people in parties are supposed to do. They overact, just a little.

In any case, I'm back at college, and plotting roleplay madness, and mathemagic, and the sweet sounds of instrumental heroics. Hopefully, I'll land on my feet. I certainly should have enough help to do so, and I'm actually trying hard.