I Just Want To Go To The Movies

I check a handy app showing me what’s playing around town, and these are top hits:


The top film is “Snitch” with a rating of “Rotten.” Average rating of sucky.

Plus, tonight the Coolidge is showing one film of interviews with Holocaust survivors; one documentary about Israel’s war on terror, and one film about a gay son come home for Passover. (In order, I’m guessing not-a-comedy, not-a-comedy, comedy?)

Not going to the movies tonight.


Cheese-and-Crackers! Boston Was Gorgeous Today

First, there was way more snow than normal,

Immovable cars in Chester Square

and — bonus — way fewer cars

Tremont Street. Crazy, yeah?

Tremont Street. Crazy, yeah? So I went for, like, an 8 mile hike.

Southie Beach. Last time I was here it was filled with redheads.

Something about seeing the Atlantic Ocean… that first Plymouth winter in 1620 must have sucked shit. But today is about the poetry of the snow. It was even kind of charming that I could barely get back into my apartment long after the storm was over.


Plus, many years from now I’ll get to reminisce about the Great Nor’easter of ’13 and tell young people they don’t know stuff from what from stuff.

There were, however, some downsides to the Nor’easter. My bike got snowed in up the handlebars. Frown-y face. Also, there was billions of dollars in economic damage. So, mixed bag. Mixed bag. But did you see that picture of people wandering down Tremont? Worth it.

Treadmill Playlist

Why yes I do work out, thank you!… And how to fight through that crushing boredom? How can I stay on a treadmill for 25 minutes without succumbing to ego-destroying introspection? Well, I’m blasting the scream-iest music on my iPod. (I can keep in shape or keep my hearing — not both.) So, a sample treadmill playlist:

Artist – Track
Lyrics I mumble to myself”

The Beatles – Blackbird
“La, la, la, la… la, la, la…..”

James Taylor – Fire and Rain 
mhraa… ammmrr… again…

Start running:
N.W.A – Fuck tha Police
“FUCK THA POLICE! Coming straight from the underground!” (don’t mumble anything else out loud)

The Real McKenzies – Whiskey Scotch Whiskey
“Whiskey Scotch Whiskey, I love my Scotch Whiskey, and I’ll drink my Scotch Whiskey until the day I die” (x8)

Bad Religion – Turn on the Light
“Buuuurrrrnnnn! Like a roman-fucking-candle!” (iPod blows out right earphone. Goddammit.)

Rage Against the Machine – Sleep Now in the Fire (plus buzzing in right ear. Goddammit.)
“I am the Nina, the Pinta, the Santa Mar̃r̃r̃ia”

(I try fixing the buzzing by gently blowing the earphone’s diaphragm back into place.)

NOFX – Punk Guy (plus lots of buzzing in the right ear. Goddammit.)
“He’ll puke on you/ He’ll fuck your mom/ He’ll smoke while huffing gas/ He was the punkest motherfucker I ever did see”

(Try blowing into earphone again. Success!)

Dropkick Murphys – For Boston
“Boston Boston Boston Boston Boston Boston Boston” (not technically the lyrics…)

System of a Down – Deer Dance
“Pushing little children with their fully automatics, they like to PUSH THE WEAK AROUND!”

Bill Monroe – Blue Moon of Kentucky
Blood is pounding in ears. Can’t mumble along. Can’t even hear song. Want to die.

Otis Redding – Sitting On the Dock of the Bay
“<whistle warbling through sweat>”

Bloody? And let us to his teeth.

Class ended yesterday, so I woke up this morning feeling uneasy. After running a mess of a life for weeks getting school work done, I really had no responsibilities today. It was slightly eerie.

“All this wondrous familiar to be exactly astern.”

So I took care of basic life things that have gone wanting for weeks. Groceries. Cleaning. Laundry.

“The monster is in the stranger.”

Perhaps there is not much more to my life than school these days. When I don’t have to drag myself to the library, I’m a little stumped.

“A vigorous pleasure to a whaling law, under a fair chance the devil did about it.”

So I looked through my list of “Christmas Break Distractions,” and got started. I made a Python script that builds and processes Markov Chains.

“It sometimes ends of Nantucket, and a hot tobacco wallet.”

It loads up the Gutenberg text of “Moby Dick,” then builds a graph of all the words and which ones probabilistic follow each other.

“Ocean, oh! thou may’st have talked with soft and then, that from his crew say to go and sixpence for a rag of the Spanish land.”

Throw a random number generator on top, and it loops through the whole text creating stochastic, Melville-like sentences.

” The continual cascade played at their defunct bodies.”

Neat, hunh?

“Ahab, unmindful of his report, stood thoughtfully eyeing his own lean Nantucketer.”


Seriously, How White is this Guy?

Really, I’m pretty white. But how white? Well, I just walked into the Romney concession speech.

Really, just walked in. I had no badge, no ID. Police were keeping back press and riffraff, yet I walked through metal detectors and security checkpoints. I was really not supposed to be there. I was not on the list. No one said a word to me.

How did I just stroll into a major Republican event? I’m just that damned white. Through no effort of my own I’ve got straight teeth, decent clothes, and a pale complexion. Oh man, I’ve got a confident stride that just dripping (dripping!) with privilege. I don’t walk through a convention center like I belong — I walk through like I’m in fucking charge.

That is how white I am. I can go anywhere, be safe, and act like the world is mine. White, male, straight, tall, with a modicum of charisma. That’s a heck of an unearned jackpot.

Software, videos, ramblings, and confusion from Ritchie Wilson.