At the request of a old friend, I was also inspired to make a couple of mixes of some of the music I’ve been enjoying lately. I used to regularly craft mix cds for friends, taking a lot of time to choose great music (new and old) and then present the tracks in an order that creates an emotional experience. This year, I’ve made a few mixes which I’m trying to share widely.

I want to highlight that, for the most part, I’ve paid for the music on these mixed cds. If I download something and like it, I buy it. I think this is particularly important given that emerging artists struggle to make ends meet. I hope that, by exposing my friends to music they might not have heard, they will also financially support the bands they like.

Here’s the track listing of two mixes I’m currently handing out. Drop me a line if you want a cd.

Gather Up

1. Don’t Wanna Be Your Man, FemBots, The Tracey Fragments
2. Flames Go Higher, Eagles of Death Metal, “Peace, Love, Death Metal”
3. Clear Spirits, Les Savy Fav, Root For Ruin
4. Horses, Broken Social Scene, The Tracey Fragments
5. For Ash, Marnie Stern, Marnie Stern
6. Electric Feel, MGMT, Oracular Spectacular
7. Seeplymouth, Volcano Choir, Unmap
8. The Sad Sun, Deer Tick, The Black Dirt Sessions
9. Scenic World (Version), Beirut, Lon Gisland EP
10. Step Off The Map & Float, Library Voices, Sled Island 2009
11. Who’s Gonna Know Your Name (666), FemBots, The Tracey Fragments
12. Mercy, Plants And Animals, Parc Avenue
13. Wichita Lineman, Johnny Cash, Unearthed III: Redemption Songs
14. Rachel & Cali, Damien Jurado, Saint Bartlett
15. And Gather, Volcano Choir, Unmap
16. We Used To Wait, Arcade Fire, The Suburbs
17. Dog Days Are Over, Florence + The Machine, Lungs
18. Set The Ray To Jerry, Smashing Pumpkins, 1979 [Single]
19. Decidedly, Jim Bryson & The Weakerthans, The Falcon Lake Incident
20. Ring Them Bells, Sufjan Stevens, I’m Not There

Gather In

1. Turn To The Assassin, Junip, Fields
2. Bye Bye Bye, Plants And Animals, Parc Avenue
3. You’re Going Back, The Tallest Man On Earth, The Wild Hunt
4. Something Hiding for Us In the Night, The Wooden Sky, If I Don’t Come Home You’ll Know I’m Gone
5. Cello Song (feat. Jose Gonzalez), The Books, Dark Was the Night
6. Son Of God, Clay George, Clay George
7. Christ Jesus, Deer Tick, The Black Dirt Sessions
8. Twice, Little Dragon, Little Dragon
9. The Last And, John K. Samson, Provincial Road 222 – EP
10. Goin’ to Acapulco, Calexico & Jim James, I’m Not There
11. Cloudy Shoes, Damien Jurado, Saint Bartlett
12. Seem To Recall, Ron Sexsmith, Whereabouts
13. “Brackett, WI”, Bon Iver, Dark Was the Night
14. “Island, IS”, Volcano Choir, Unmap
15. Burden of Tomorrow, The Tallest Man On Earth, The Wild Hunt
16. Albuquerque Lullaby, Dan Bern, New American Language
17. My Old Ghosts, The Wooden Sky, If I Don’t Come Home You’ll Know I’m Gone
18. CAMERAS, WOMEN, WOMEN
19. Black Refuge, Junip, Fields
20. Vast Empire, Clay George, Clay George
21. Golden Slumbers, The Beatles, Abbey Road
22. Ring them Bells, Bob Dylan, Oh Mercy

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• Film Review: The Tracey Fragments
• Small earthquakes set things aright
• Uplifting those who missed out

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• Uplifting those who missed out
• Go
• Pre Race Meanderings

There were more team events today so I packed my outfit/costume/uniform and prepared for photos. Canada’s uniforms (bike jersey, track pants, jacket) are a strange combo of loud and earnest. Mexico’s get-up (hot pink) is certainly louder than Canada’s yet their gear works for me because it is playful and lighthearted. I will post photos when i can. The Canada kit is a little too serious for my taste with the maple leaf pattern punctuated by a large maple leaf blazoned on the chest. I guess we are just really happy to attend to the party— the “pasta party,” that is (which was the supper offered at the opening ceremony)!

Skipped the “pasta party” (don’t usually do gluten overload) and walked back into town. Walking over the Danube in approaching-dusk—spectacular. That the highest point in Budapest sites a statue holding a massive laurel leaf raised above its head bodes well too. Beautiful in the light. Do I believe in omens? Only if they serve me, as this one indeed does.

As I walked the streets in the slow darkening, I tried to summarize the city in an image or metaphor. None came. I suspect one never will. I can’t rave lovesongs about Budapest but I feel a connection to it. Perhaps the combo of decay and progress resonates with me. I feel fortunate to be here.

Eventually, I found myself in a more familiar area of the city centre. Searching streets for a resturaunt that would offer me a big salad and little second hand smoke, I found my way into Port H. Clean lines on the sign, sans serif modern font, strange art welcoming me down stairs into a bomb shelter like area—perfect. White walls. A cartoon maze bathroom. Low music and great service. Immaculate presentation. Food so good that it demands a second visit. I overtipped when I came time to pay. Truly that good.

I started with a salad that was so good it demands description. Here is what the menu said: “Goat’s cheese fried in cashew with rocket and caramelized vegetables.”

Eat something with “rocket” in it before a race? You betcha!

Sitting in Port H I was overwhelmed with an intense feeling of dreaming these present moments some years previous. Not simply of that meal but of the entire walk back over the river, omens included. I have dreamt of this moment, particularly the strange loneliness I feel experiencing this place without Laura. I remember the buildings and the sense of being estranged due to physical, not emotional, distance. Certain I have had a premonition of this evening both upsets and calms me. I cannot explain it otherways.

Race in a few days. Who am I racing? Versions of myself? Other Canadians or nations? Time? Either way, I feel an quiet excitement in the pit of my stomach. It puts a smile on my face.

Related posts:

• Pre-race post
• 2010 Ixtapa Race Report
• The Sri: Fatigue, Focus, Acceptance (race report 2010)

I am frequently asked what the design is and what it means. Usually, I respond to inquirers by asking what they interpret from the design, then I offer a fairly short answer. If they express further interest, then the conversation continues. Most people are happy with a short explanation.

Similar to queries about a thesis, most people don’t want to know the finer details about the various interpretive levels of this tattoo. Fair enough. That said, if you are interested in how deep the rabbit hole goes, despite your hatred for The Matrix trilogy, the read on!

First though, the quick answer I give people is that the tattoo signifies the word (world?) if. This mark reminds me of all the actualized choices and possibilities which have served to bring about the current moment, in which I choose the next “if.” This clean explanation emphasizes my ability to act (or not) as a responsible, ethical being-in-the-world.

I am quick to add that the design signifies many other concepts—likely because I am a quintessential student of the humanities.

I find many people are simply pleased to know that

• I’ve (seemingly) thought long and hard about the tattoo
• it has a meaning, which on-the-face-of-it does not seem too juvenile or dated

However, in this blog post, I attempt to offer a more honest parseing of the design. Forgive me, but my own thoughts on this matter have yet to complete so I can’t promise an all-encompassing and consistent explication of the square design inked onto my arm. An aphorism is all I offer.

I wanted my tattoo to have strong, hard modenist lines and to work like of Rorschach ink test for others. I didn’t want something immediately recognizable or simple. Under-determined meaning allows me to learn a little about other people through their explanations. More, a somewhat abstracted design permits the tattoo to grow with me, since I can find new meanings and interpretations to focus on as I go forward on the wave-tossed journey of life.

I designed the tattoo to be a perfect square with equal space between each block of ink. Clean, strong lines, symmetry, perfect. But the design was imprinted on my flesh. The result: only a memory symmetry. Skin contorts, contours, blemishes, and stretches the design—it breaks parallel and perpendicular angles. Plans and implementation frequently differ (defer). The tattoo reminds me of something my friend Jay calls the perfectly imperfect—imperfection not as failure but as an unavoidable element of life. The interplay between the design, medium, and canvas admits a vivacious play more compelling than the abstract perfection concieved in the design.

(“How typical,” one might counter. le petite bourgeois. Yes yes. Keep reading to further nuance your accusation.)

The location of the tattoo means that viewers may see it from a variety of different angles—deciding for themselves which way is up before imagining meaning(s). The arm is frequently in motion, so the tattoo itself invites a hermenuetic leap of faith and, insodoing, makes some people aware that they have indeed followed one of many potential interpretive trajectories. Like so many pieces of art, this tattoo raises as least as many questions as answers. Yet, I have read that the task of philosophy is not to answer questions, but to make sure the proper sort of questions are being formulated and asked.

So . . . Shall I enumerate meanings? Equal sign, crossroads, broken letters, my own name hidden within, exclaimation marks, if, the period, a Norwegian flag, if i anagram, x and y axis, the seen and unseen (or charted/uncharted), the arrow, an x, greater than sign, less than sign, moving towards a centre, moving away from an origin, even a cross (that divisive sign of chaos and suffering).

No. You would tire and disbelieve—curse dialectics. Frustrated, you might return to apt accusations or, more cynically, cease to read altogether.

So, I return to this notion of choice and responsibility—if and if i, a crossroad. Why does the summary of that ethical being-in-the-world get trotted out as an explanation? Am I fashioning myself as some sort of hero (“we don’t need another hero”)? I am likely guilty on all charges, but this tattoo has another strong overture. It confronts me with the horror that the notion choice itself is not certain. Not only do arguments ranging from pure biological or material determinism to ideas of teleology or divine foreknowledge trouble the notion of choice, but a great deal of thought has further complicated any presumptions about coming to ethical decisions. We cannot know all ends, and good intentions often inaugurate (rather than cover) a multitude of sins.

Part of the if of my tattoo is that I opt to live my life as if I do have choice, as if I am capable of authentic ethical and responsible acts. To say it more clearly, the if allows me to escape paralysis (cynicism) and go to work, knowing that the result of my action won’t be made clear until later and that right work doesn’t guarantee right outcome. Good work allows for the possibility of good outcomes. I opt to be judged then by the actions of my life, rather than my inactions.

In this way, I am authentic even as I pretend my way through life. So, while striving towards ideals that might not even exist, I balance the particularity of my choices with the potential of a universal good.

Towards the end of First as Tragedy, Then as Farce, Žižek relays the Hopi saying “We are the ones we are waiting for.” While Žižek turns this phrase into a call for Marxist revolutionary action, I internalize the wisdom otherly.

To finish on a lighter note, the tattoo has a functional purpose. Laura can attest to my too frequent failure to distinguish left from right. Many times while driving, Laura directs me to turn left and I confidently take the next right. Now, I have a tattoo on my left arm with all sorts of Ls designed into it. Left now means turning the direction of my tattoo arm. No more wrong turns! Yet, I still make them, now without excuse.

No related posts.

Life is good. Wasa Olympic Triathlon in 34 hours.
L

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Enjoy!

Click here to view the embedded video.

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