Hip Hop

Today was truly a wonderful day. The student organizers of the fourth annual Hip Hop Festival at Trinity College (U.S.A., Hartford, Connecticut) came to the restaurant for their after-party. Accompanying these fine ladies and gentlemen were some very, very cool individuals who for one reason or another are connected by the hip to Hip Hop. Okay, a bad pun but then when isn't a pun fun?

I nearly missed this, but chose to be there for the delightful Trinity kids and blew off another commitment. The usual culprits could wait. I wanted to say goodbye to the soon-to-graduate kids and wish a good summer to the underclasspersons.

A poet from Seattle was a guest of honor; I pimped E2 and she said she'd heard of it. Who knows, someday the controversy over poetry here will become non-controversial. This lady offered a non-denominational prayer before dinner that, frankly, would blow Maya Angelou's feet outta her shoes. So spiritually "in tune" was this woman I thought for a moment the table would levitate. Just kidding.

There were a few in attendance who are heavy players in the Hip Hop scene, mostly from New York City. These people blew away my stereotypes of the Hip Hop culture. I discovered that what I find distasteful about Hip Hop music, clothes, and culture in general is perpetrated by Hip Hop wanna-be folks and posers.

Who knew?

Awesome Sound

Pinch me. I still think I'm dreaming. The sound renovation project at work is going soooo well.

(This is the spot where I stop writing and say a little prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever will listen, who I assume arranges everything that happens to us in a pre-ordained fashion and then lets us wonder whether it's coincidence.)

Ahem. Back to the sound. I played Beethoven's 9th Symphony during an empty period between lunch and dinner. It was, as described in the node about it, pure bliss. It was so overwhelming that even our dour sushi chef perked up and paid attention.

When those who thoroughly enjoyed it asked me why I don't play classical music more often I replied that now I will, given the combination of fabulous power, lack of distortion and signal-to-noise ratio, fidelity and control that's so great it's downright, well, for lack of a better word, "stupid!" This is coming at no small price (I'm not bitching about the money this time, I'm bitching about having to climb ladders and have bits of plaster, fiberglass insulation, and lots and lots of dust fall on top of me.) I also wonder why I wore a dark blue shirt and black slacks today. Ahh, masochism.

There are wires everywhere (now tucked into the ceiling but they do terminate in places and wherever more than one or two cords lie on the floor or droop from the ceiling I cringe and think of them as Asps who'll reproduce and suddenly choke the place. It all must be painted black, too. But that's part of the decor renovation, which is the purview of Dennis, the jack-of-all-trades who is indeed a maestro of most of them (but for electricity; for some reason he's not great with that and defers to me to receive the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune).

Life is good.