with the clutter of today’s music, i find it refreshing to listen & sonically soak in the sounds of gregorian chants like Kyrie & Gloria…
Category: field notes
Field notes
anyone remember 1994? how about live’s ‘i alone?’ for some reason that song haunts me this morning…
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For those about to sip their caffeine elixir… Java-Inspired Jazz: http://ping.fm/wVldP
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[scene one]
Asheville may be the only place I know that can turn a hula hoops event into something slightly tamer than pole dancing. Walking to the Transit Center earlier this week, I observed quite a large crowd of people with hula hoops at Pritchard Park. A deejay whipped up some trance vibes and the crowd responded with hips and hoops. For the most part, the event seemed quite family friendly with the exception of a few women whose performance with hula hoops approached the idea of *ahem* public art.
[scene two]
The next evening I walked along Patton Avenue — again heading toward the Transit Center. A guy leaning on the rail outside the Asheville Yacht Club with a Pabst Blue Ribbon can in his right hand stared across the street as if watching a tired rerun of That 70s Show. I didn’t think much of it. Maybe he had a lousy day and was trying to unwind. Maybe he was waiting for someone to join him and was just killing time. When the signal lamp changed I crossed the street and realized that the guy outside the Asheville Yacht Club was watching two young women making out at one of the tables on the street outside Thirsty Monk’s Pub. Who needs a television? or an iPhone? Just grab a seat at the rail outside the Asheville Yacht Club, order a PBR, and watch the wildlife at Thirsty Monk’s Pub. The whole scene made me feel oddly lugubrious.
[scene three]
Thursday morning the sunrise bruised the sky with purple and red clouds. The air echoed its coolness and as I walked from the bus stop to Starbucks. After purchasing a pumpkin muffin and a tall bold coffee, I walked across the parking lot toward the office. I noticed a car with all its windows open about an inch or so. It seemed trashed. Piles of plastic bags with clothes, stuffed toys, fast food restaurant bags, and shoes cluttered the interior of the car and seemed to reach the window. As I bit off a morsel of muffin I realized, at second glance, that a woman, man and child were sleeping in the car. What appeared to be plastic bags were black sleeping bags that were unzipped and pulled up to their necks like quilts. The woman was in the driver’s seat with the seat reclined back as fast is it will go. The man was sleeping on his right side facing the woman. His seat was also reclined, but not as much as the woman’s. The child slept in an a car seat with a dark blanket pulled up to the neck. I paused, but thought a third glance would be wrong and might wake them.
The sun still hid behind the mountains to the east as I finished eating the muffin while standing in the parking lot. They’re story must be interesting, I thought to myself as I stuffed the paper muffin wrapping in my pocket. It was still early. No one was in the office yet. I hesitated for a few seconds, looked back at the car in the parking lot with a sleeping family, took a sip of coffee and walked up the steps to the office.
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Dear twitchy-guy riding the bus and wearing an Iron Maiden hoodie,
Please don’t hit on the young lady in the Slipknot T-shirt. It’s the musical equivalence of incest. Besides, she doesn’t like you and the bus driver is ready to throw you off the bus.
Further, having consumed moderate amounts of Iron Maiden during the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son and No Prayer for the Dying era, your ear-bud induced convulsions are a poor imitation of Nicko McBrain’s thunderous drum work.
Sincerely,
Annoyed-undercaffeinated bus rider
Have you ever had one of those mornings where you wish you could hit reset and start over?
Red Green says, “Men need to replace the phrase ‘Hey, watch this’, with ‘Where are my glasses?’ and ‘Where are my other glasses?’…”
Somehow I managed to make it all the way to the office before I realized I left my glasses at home. Usually I’m more organized than this. My book bag is packed the night before. Bus pass, office keys, glasses, etc. are placed next to the book bag. Shoes are placed at the front door. So, the futility of waking up early this morning to get to the office before anyone else only to have to return home, retrieve my glasses and go back to the office was rewarded by a barista who says, “You want a bold coffee, right?”
I’m sure David Allen would have something appropriate to say about the inefficiency of this mornings events. Maybe there was an open loop somewhere I didn’t close. Maybe it has something to do with time or energy availability. Or maybe it has to do with stumbling around the house in the dark while trying not to wake anyone.
All this to say, I can do stupid things just as fast without coffee as I can with coffee.
Early bird gets coffee
It’s a cool September morning. For the first time in over a week, the bus from my ‘hood made it to the Transit Center in time for me to transfer to the next bus that takes me to work.On the way to the office I stop by my coffee dealer who sets me up with a pumpkin scone and a bold Italian blend coffee. To the east, the sun barely breaks the ridge of the mountain at 7:45 AM. The office is quiet as a nibble away at breakfast and sip steaming hot coffee.
Poem: Reading “My American Body” by W. K. Buckley
Reading “My American Body” by W. K. Buckley
Fireflies sparkle
Outside. I see them through the
Living room window.
It’s the time between
Times as I
Examine a new hole in
My jeans and consider
“Picking up their shreds
To the tangled light.”
Condensation rolls down
St. Pauli Girl who
Makes me sparkle
Inside.
(c) Matthew Mulder. All rights reserved.
Originally published in Rapid River Art Magazine, October 2005
Ten things about traveling
That vacation I had been planning to take in May, I finally took in August. So, 2300 miles later, here’s ten things I learned or observed on the road.
10. Sirius satellite radio. Channels of interested included Outlaw Country and The Coffeehouse. But other than that, I think I’d prefer my own music collection… if only the CD player worked.
9. Upper Peninsula Michigan is a gorgeous, moderate climate to visit in mid to late August. Highs in the 70s. Leave the window open and enjoy the evening lows in the 50s.
8. Indiana, I can’t leave you fast enough. Your rest stop areas are deplorable, unsanitary and unsafe. Your fueling stations are even worse. I don’t think there’s a gear in the automobile that gets me out of Indiana fast enough.
7. Miscalculated the miles per gallon ratio. Next fuel stop in 250 miles.
6. Every bite of Danish Kringle pastry is worth the 813 miles of travel. Now if I can lose the 20 pounds I gained.
5. Illy coffee really is that good. Especially brewed from a stovetop espresso maker.
4. Starbucks has free wi-fi. So does McDonald’s, truck stops and occasionally Perkins.
3. Those four books I placed in my bag and planned to read… didn’t get read. I guess it has something to do with don’t read and drive at the same time.
2. Sometimes visiting a hometown is simply finding that spot on the radio that is as much home as the house you grew up in. So when did my hometown radio station start running strip club radio ads? It’s like coming home to a brothel.
1. Oh, yeah, and that old house I used to call home… it’s now a parking lot.
Quote: “Astonishment is the root of philosophy.”
~ Paul Tillich, The Writer’s Almanac
How to find wifi hotspots for digital nomads
If you’re traveling on the road and need some wifi connectivity, a couple websites help locate hotposts. Obviously, any Starbucks in America will have free wifi, as well as Barnes and Noble, but for other places I use jiwire and openwifispots to find wifi hotpots.
August 1988
Last night for a few minutes it felt like August 1988. Driving west on Highway 11, a half moon rising to the southwest, a line of red radio tower lights on the horizon to the northwest, the evening star the Greeks named Hesperus straight on to the west and Def Leppard’s hit song “Pour Some Sugar on Me” explodes from the auto’s stereo speakers. For a moment, I’m planning to leave this place and pursue an art degree. And I’m thinking about auditioning for the high school musical. And I’m wondering if… Then the song ends. And it’s not August 1988. And yet here I am again driving west on Highway 11.
Field notes
while walking this morning in the foggy dew… i wonder if norway has mornings like this?
polyglot
adjective • 1) containing, or made up, of, several languages. 2) versed in, or speaking, many languages.
noun • 1) one who speaks several languages. 2) a book containing several versions of the same text, or containing the same subject matter in several languages. 3) a program written in multiple programming languages (programming).
From Greek, πολύς (many) + γλῶττα (tongue, language)
What’s easier, selling books or flipping burgers?
Here’s a fantastic infographic that presents a visualizes the answer to the following question: How Much Do Music Artists Earn Online? If you think those results look abysmal, try publishing a book.
Here’s a book publishing case study to consider. A couple of years ago I worked on a 72-page book. The book features one-color illustrations on the text pages and full-color cover. The cover price is $5.99. It costs $1.58 per copy to have the books printed and delivered to the warehouse. You’re probably thinking that’s not so bad. There’s a $4.41 profit and the author (assuming the author receives a 10% royalty) walks away with $0.44 per copy sold. Not really impressive is it?
The publisher has to ship inventory to booksellers (online or brick-and-mortar) and that costs quite a bit. For example, let’s say the publisher receives an order from Amazon.com and one product is ordered. It costs the publisher $0.97 to properly pack and label the order and $2.13 to mail it using USPS. So far, the publisher costs for one book sold through Amazon.com is $4.68. That reduces the profit margin to $1.31 per copy. Like most retailers, Amazon.com buys books at 55% off the cover price: $2.70. You’ll notice that the publisher is running a deficit. It literally costs the publisher $1.98 to sell a $5.99 book title. The author receives no royalty.
If the publisher sells the book through its own web store, then the net profit is $1.31 for one book sold. The publisher pays the author $0.13 per copy sold.
All that to say, the author of the book in this case study needs to sell 2,240 copies on the publisher’s web store to earn the same amount of money that an employee at Hardee’s (earning minimum wage) earns in a 40-hour week.
Vigilant fact checking is still essential to journalism
It appears that you can’t just say 70% of what you read online is by your friends on Facebook or Twitter. You actually need to provide reference material.
Silly me. I thought everything on the internet was true. [citation needed]
Link: Is 70 percent of what we read online really by our friends?
Are Mondays in Norway are better?
Black, red and gold – schwarz, rot und gold

Germany’s national flag is officially black, red and gold – schwarz, rot und gold. What do the colors actually mean? Well, in the war of liberation against Napolean, the uniforms where black, had golden buttons and red lapels.
“Aus der Schwärze (schwarz) der Knechtschaft durch blutige (rot) Schlachten ans goldene (gold) Licht der Freiheit.” (From the blackness of slavery through bloody battles to the golden light of freedom)
Ten Unexpected Collective Nouns
- rout • a rout of wolves
- clowder • a clowder of cats
- descension • a descension of woodpeckers
- disworship • a disworship of Scots
- mute • a mute of hounds
- raft • a raft of ducks
- unbrewing • an unbrewing of carvers
- neverthriving • a neverthriving of jugglers
- drunkenship • a drunkenship of cobblers
- shrewdness • a shrewdness of apes
Some day, I’m going to grow up & look like this

some day, i’m going to grow up & look like this hipster… (via lteagarden)
Field notes
dear tumblr, i really need to quit you.
Field notes
special thanks to @malaprops for hosting the poetry reading!
Field notes
also, thanks to those online friends i got to mirl… nice to finally meet face to face…
Field notes
just returned for the celebration singers of asheville’s winter concert. the soloist, a 9-yr old, performed memory from the musical cats! amazing!
