Monthly Archives: October 2011

low-hanging fruit wires

  • I was exploring the Broadway/South Medford area. That’s all my draft notes say for that scene.
  • At home in NH, on a gray day, the power lines along the road were hanging pretty low over the end of the lower driveway and were difficult to avoid. A golden retriever came up to me and brushed the bottom of the biggest set of low wires and was unaffected.
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border kayaking

I was kayaking with a number of friends in a roughly circular (but meandering) route through maybe flat watercourses and calm shoreline, always with overhanging forest trees; the route ended at the US border (we were outside the US, not inside) where to the north there was a sandy boat-landing-sized beach, with open water to the east. There was a small, tawny wooden sign maybe in the water along the border saying “USA” in white Helvetica condensed bold letters; there were a bunch of people on the US side, including a guy within earshot who looked a bit like Salvador Dali, formally dressed; I asked him what the name of the US locality there was and he answered Guadalajara (he seemed to have a Spanish accent also); I’m not sure which country we were kayaking in.

house music hill

(I think this was from the 19th, anyway.) The setting was an east-facing lawn-covered hill slope with a hairpin-turn drive going down it and a big, maybe fancy building at the top; it was a balmy clear evening twilight. There were people hanging out on the lawn, including some by the drive, maybe some sitting. Somehow the scene was (or was a part of) a guide to or documentary on house music; I talked with a guy in maybe his 60s who was sitting on the retaining wall partway down the hill, where a turn of the drive cut into the hill, about the social empowerment issues inherent in house music.

regatta arrivals

I was in the car with my dad driving, first down a dusty, open hill toward the east (which seemed to be in NH), on a clear day in the early afternoon sun. Then at the base of the hill we turned right onto a north-south highway that went into a forest. Eventually the view ahead started opening up (at this point it was a bright overcast, seemingly forenoon) and Powderhouse Circle could be seen, plus two other oval traffic circles further to the southeast, and all of them were on a slope down to the seashore to the south, so that they were held up by stone retaining walls on their downslope sides. The view thereof seemed bird’s-eye. There was a van with rowing shells going to a regatta that we were either directly ahead of or directly behind; lots of traffic was flowing through the circles and along the serpentine roads connecting them. Once we reached the south-facing seashore, the beach seemed to be an airport, and a jet landed on it, coming in from the east, with a woman standing on pedals on each side of the front landing wheel and holding handles attached to the wheel guard, as if the landing wheel were a motorcycle’s front wheel; she was a crew coach and her team were on the plane. This seemed like an unbelievably dangerous thing to do given the linear landing speed of the plane and the rotational speed of the wheel, but she made it fine through the landing. Yeesh.

UKF lesson

  • On the east side of a cliffy, terraced city hill, there was a building complex consisting of two symmetrical volumes running east-west (but to the north/south of each other), each containing two parallel corridors also running east-west through the length of the volumes, with dorm rooms or apartments off the corridors. The buildings had a modern/industrial-materials look; they harmonized well with the surroundings, as though they were concrete and the surrounding land was limestone. The hillside dropped off in a gulf between the buildings, I think. There were some other large buildings further north and south. I was there with a friend on a clear evening twilight, purply-blue, because someone who lived there (named Gary I think) had borrowed a bunch of towels from another friend of ours for too long and we were trying to figure out where he was in order to ask for the towels back. I think the friend with the towels maybe lived in the complex too, or other people I knew. The corridors were clinical-looking but not oppressive, lit by cool indirect fluorescent light.
  • I was with a mixed group of people, probably 10–20, queuing outside at the east side of a tallish city building; we were there to attend a class on producing UK funky. It was a clear, coldish day, I think, and it was late afternoon so that we were in the shadow of the building. Once we were let in, we went into a compact, dimly lit room (no sun coming in, at any rate) and sat down at antique wooden writing desks, facing west. I was near the left side; to my left were lots of outlets in the wall, which I either mentioned or intended to mention to the others for plugging in their gear.

night boating

A few scenes:

  • There was a group of people camping in the woods along a dirt road one night, their tents spread out diffusely through the site. I forget whether I was traveling along the road or with the camping group. One guy planned to go boating on a river right then, I think, with his son; I told him going on moving water in the dark was always a bad idea. (I mean, isn’t it?) I realized later on that he was or looked like Wolfgang Voigt. (If you Googled him and found this: this is a dream journal, I am not impeaching his real-life judgment.)
  • I was moving into a dorm room in a large, high-ceilinged, white-walled attic with lots of midmorning sunlight; I had eMac with me.
  • I discovered a new version of ReBirth that had a new interface for the 303 with pitch on a vertical axis like a software sequencer for faster and easier loop composition; it also had weird Apple-Genie-like zoom/scroll fx.