Friday, September 06, 2013
Morada at The Inn at Rancho Santa Fe
Rather than spending time on useful and occasionally enjoyable research, I spent several hours yesterday writing a six-page (six page!) letter to the editor about a recent poor dining experience I'd had just about a month ago. I happened across this review of a fine dining establishment in the morning's newspaper, which rubbed salt in old wounds, and I felt I had to respond in some way. Which I did. But I wonder about myself sometimes. I'd had steak and "Bourbon".
(What I'm reading this morning: The New Inquiry, Rob Horning, "Experiments in Inertia")
What he says: "Self-quantification, then, may be an attempt to make personal nostalgia somehow more “legitimate” and less a vertiginous private hole one’s mind can fall into."
The Nazi Beast seems to have outlived my friend, Gene Fisher by about a month or so. He died just a few days ago.
(This is a music blog. So if you read down the article on the Nazi Beast and Hitler's last days, and his bodyguard's last days, you would have run across this paragraph describing how he fled from the bunker and encountered music:
'Misch grabbed the rucksack he had packed and fled with a few others into the rubble of Berlin. Working his way through cellars and subways, Misch bumped into a large group of civilians seeking shelter in one tunnel.
"Two were playing music," he said, remembering how incongruous the scene seemed to him. "I came out of the death bunker of concrete, and here were two people playing music on guitar." ')
¶ 9/06/2013 09:26:00 AM
Rather than spending time on useful and occasionally enjoyable research, I spent several hours yesterday writing a six-page (six page!) letter to the editor about a recent poor dining experience I'd had just about a month ago. I happened across this review of a fine dining establishment in the morning's newspaper, which rubbed salt in old wounds, and I felt I had to respond in some way. Which I did. But I wonder about myself sometimes. I'd had steak and "Bourbon".
(What I'm reading this morning: The New Inquiry, Rob Horning, "Experiments in Inertia")
What he says: "Self-quantification, then, may be an attempt to make personal nostalgia somehow more “legitimate” and less a vertiginous private hole one’s mind can fall into."
The Nazi Beast seems to have outlived my friend, Gene Fisher by about a month or so. He died just a few days ago.
(This is a music blog. So if you read down the article on the Nazi Beast and Hitler's last days, and his bodyguard's last days, you would have run across this paragraph describing how he fled from the bunker and encountered music:
'Misch grabbed the rucksack he had packed and fled with a few others into the rubble of Berlin. Working his way through cellars and subways, Misch bumped into a large group of civilians seeking shelter in one tunnel.
"Two were playing music," he said, remembering how incongruous the scene seemed to him. "I came out of the death bunker of concrete, and here were two people playing music on guitar." ')
¶ 9/06/2013 09:26:00 AM
