March 7th, 2005

flavored with age

Scenes from a Maul

This weekend I experienced the sublime, uncomfortable joy of hearing 75 people trying desperately not to laugh.

Beyond that, I had a pretty uneventful weekend. Friday night was fun, if a total bustaroo; far from winning every game of Catan as I had hoped, I in fact lost all of them. Cole won both games, that fuck, but at least it led to an interesting discussion of Catantrums. Also, I have noticed another seeming indicator of victory: the last time we played, Doug and I observed that rum_holiday, who tends to win a lot more than either of us, is in the habit of hanging on to her cards a while longer than we are. This is risky, but it can have a big payoff, because you can have a single hand where you get a lot of stuff done and can jump ahead 3 or 4 points. We've since become convinced that this is a pretty good strategy to follow. What I noticed last night is that both Andrea and Cole, who also wins a lot, spend way more time on their moves that we do. Does this help them win? If so, how much is them just being deliberate and careful, and how much of it is a juke meant to throw us off our games and disrupt our rhythms so that we're more likely to make a mistake? I dunno. Something to watch for, though.

What else? Cops have been everywhere lately, and they're making me feel put upon. I spent many hours last night making CDs. No Ludic Log updates, dammit. My amazing girlfriend ninafarina is coming down this weekend to go to the St. Patrick's Day parade with us; it's also her birthday, and I did a bit of shopping for her on Saturday. As much as I like Trader Joe's, I kinda hate the people who shop there. I have a truckload of writing, cleaning and work to do this week, so posting here will likely be light. I didn't get a job I was gunning for, and one of the magazines I freelance for just rejected my last two pitches, so I'm feeling professionally fragile. manningkrull and tamisevens are actually moving to fucking PARIS this week -- the one in France, not the one in Texas. I've been reading B. Traven's Death Ship and some Hegel lately, so my thoughts are not nearly as tawdry and disjointed as this paragraph would suggest.

Today's question: other than the obvious (Fiona Apple's When the Pawn...), what are the longest album names you can think of?