Pedestrian Prose

Friends, I report with great sadness this morning that my ipod, DJ Shaft and the Millennium Disco, has died.

I left him in the car overnight, and maybe it was just too cold outside.  Maybe it was the continued use during my travels.  I should stop blaming myself, I guess.

On the way to work (10 minute trip, max) I had to resuscitate him 3 times, holding menu & select, before he would sing to me.  Then at work, he stopped in mid-song.  When I tried to restart him, he gave me the folder with an exclamation point icon.  Quite alarmed, I rushed him back to my desktop and put him on life support.  I did what I could to backup all the music on him.  Gosh, I hope I got it all.

Then, when I tried a restore, he flat-lined and was unresponsive.  He didn’t respond well when I tried to eject him.  Itunes crashed.  I eventually had to unplug him during the ‘do not disconnect’ message!  From there, he clicked his last click, and at approximately 10:34 a.m., Friday, October 28, DJ Shaft displayed the sad ipod icon (above) and was pronounced dead.

Funeral arrangements (and the delivery of a replacement ipod) were made with AppleCare, and the casket will be arriving in my mail in about a week.  Since DJ Shaft was an organ donor, his parts will most likely be used to service other ipods of his generation.

His last song was Friday by Goldspot, in celebration of the end of this work week.  I’ll remember him fondly; his only goal in life was to make me happy, which he did through-out his long year of service. Keep DJ Shaft and the Millennium Disco in your prayers.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.

I lament the things I see or hear but cannot share. Though one day I believe we will see the death of that which is ephemeral: nothing which cannot be recorded. No conversation unrecorded, no image too fleeting to capture.

I saw a scarf of birds today whose acrobatic flight paths were too intricate and quick for digital film. Lately I’ve found a general fascination with the notion of recording and keeping everything in hopes that one day some future anthropologist will stumble upon it and make sense of my life.

So, frustrated and paralyzed by the need to capture this fleeting beauty (to analyze later), I sat and watched the birds’ erratic yet enchanting dance in the sky. And then it hit me: an epiphany of the importance of ephemeral. It did me just fine to stop, sit, watch, feel, and then reflect and write about what I saw.

Does my theory of the apparent death of all that is ephemeral also mean the death of narrative, of reflection? No; surely it needn’t be that way. Personal artifacts were meant to be reflected upon to illustrate their significance in our lives. I just think it helps to see that reflection in context, that’s all…

I did capture a few images during my travels this week, and have made a sample playlist to try and recapture some of what I’ve been experiencing:

Universal’s City Walk party hosted by Educause (taken from the balcony of the Groove (a bar/dance club)

The “Sky Vodka Blue Room” at the Groove

Monument Circle in the center of downtown Indianapolis

Christ Church Episcopal Cathedral (also in Monument Circle)

Ohio Street, Indianapolis

‘Traveling’ Playlist

I wish I could have recorded my entire journey on video or something. I’ve encountered so many new people, places, and things. I wish I could have taken you all here. Alas, these blog entries are all I have at the moment.

Reflection is all that we may ever have in the end.

Indianapolis is now on my short list of most wonderful places in the world. Tonight I met up with Linda and went to see the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra’s pops performance of “A Cole Porter Celebration” at the historic Hilbert Circle Theatre. We noticed it while walking in beautiful Monument Circle, downtown. Apparently Cole Porter was from Indiana.

As we were in line to get tickets, this very well dressed woman hands us two tickets for the elite box seating. She didn’t want us to pay her either. So we accepted the tickets. As we got seated, the lady and her husband sat in front of us in the same box (there were six of us in the box).

The show itself was absolutely magnificent. I couldn’t help but feel so special to be at such a great high-society event, let alone in the box! The soloists were Ted Keegan (who replaced Matt Cavenaugh from Jonesboro, AR. Matt playes Mark Soloman on the soap One Life to Live), Cicily Daniels, Mark Gilgallon, Sarah Hagstrom, Mark Nadler, and Andre McRae.

Anyways, at the end of the second set, before the last song, Jack Everly, the conductor, says some final words and thanks to all the major sponsors. He mentions that Cole Porter’s cousin, Margaret Cole Russell was here, a major sponsor of the arts in Indianapolis. And just like that, the spot light shines on our booth, and the lovely lady who gave us our tickets nods her head and waves like Queen Elizabeth. It was surreal! I met Cole Porter’s cousin!

My entire trip to Indianapolis has been just as surreal. From the moment the plane pierced through the clouds and I could see the fall-colored trees, I recognized the beauty of the Midwest. It is so funny to me how different it is here compared to Florida or even Arkansas.

Last night I went to Talbotts, the gay dance club. I met some very charming and friendly guys and had a great time. Some things I’ve noticed about the gay scene up here:

• Smoking is bad m’kay? The bar wasn’t smoky at all. There were a lot less smokers in Indianapolis in general.
• Dancing is fun. There were few wall flowers here (I know, I was among them). Everybody dances. They played techno (or house or whatever it’s called these days) in the main room and everyone was on it. There was no hip-hop room (maybe they have their own club). The main room was about the size of Disco’s drag room, and the drag room at Talbott’s was smaller than Disco’s techno room.
• Drag queens have real boobs. Apparently Arkansas is one of few states that has a law against “performing transsexuals,” that’s why we can’t get cool drag queens from Dallas (because most of them have real tits).

I love it here; I hope I get a chance to stay a while longer next time.

Not to be one-upped by my best friend Ashlee, I almost saw Debbie Gibson at Karma (a gay bar) in Orlando. Let me start from the beginning…

So I spent the week in Orlando at Educause, an IT conference for folks in higher education.  In addition to being totally re-energized by the awesome presentations and 7500 geeks-like-me that were there, we had a pretty great time in Orlando, except for a few things:

Aside from those sore points, Orlando knows a good party.  And I saw quite a few.  In previous trips, I had only gone to Disney World, which is a blast.  But this time I got to see Universal’s City Walk.  Nice. This is what downtown Little Rock should look like.

I also had to go to the Parliament House, an all gay resort/bar/club complex. It was sort-of the Baskin Robins of gay bars.  A cross between Little Rock’s Discovery and the Bates Motel, but dirtier.  More like if Disco was bigger and there were no straight people.

Later I hopped over to the Dragon Room, a “lavish, ultramodern lounge,” and caught-up with a friend from High School.

So back to Debbie, I had planned on just going to Karma, because it was down the street from my hotel, but it was $20 to stand outside (ya’ll, Orlando is hot, okay?!) or $100 for VIP access.  Ouch.  Even worse, there was no one there when I walked by.  Sigh.

So, you win Ashlee.  Hope Angela Bassett was cool.  I’m off to Indianapolis.

Writing about your life changes your life.