impatient crash

Where the small access street to our development meets the main artery, there's a traffic light, and the exit direction of the small access street splits into two lanes.

Therein lies the rub, because the left lane of those two is a left-turn-only lane, clearly marked with an arrow on the pavement. That leaves the right lane, which has no markings, for both going forward and turning right.

I was in my car at the front of this lane, waiting at a red light, because I was going forward. Behind me was a U-Haul truck whose driver wanted to turn right. He thought I had to turn right too - which I could have done safely, had that been my intent - and got impatient. So - since there was nobody in the left lane - he decided to go around me.

At that moment the light turned green, and - not seeing this truck pulling this dangerous maneuver - I started to move forward. And he came around and clipped me, wrecking my left headlight cover and a bunch of other stuff. So, instead of saving 3 seconds, he wasted half an hour, because that's how long it took to settle things after we pulled over.

"Why didn't you go?" he asked me.

"The light was red," I replied.

"You could have turned right safely," he said.

"I wasn't turning right. I was going forward," I replied.

"Then you should have been in the other lane," he said.

"That's a dedicated left turn lane," I replied.

He then went over and looked at it, and what he thought after seeing the arrow on the pavement - which he could easily have seen when he was behind me - I don't know.

I got very angry with him and he responded by calling the police. The cops were bemused by what was a civil dispute, not a criminal matter, and mediated our exchange of information. One of the cops advised me not to get angry, with an implication that I did so as some kind of negotiating tactic. I said I expressed anger because I was angry. He said it wasn't a big deal, insurance will cover it.

Well, it won't. I have a large deductible, my insurance doesn't cover the cost of a rental car while mine is in the shop, and that doesn't count the nuisance and fuss of dealing with all this. My usual body shop has abruptly gone out of business, to my surprise, so I had to get the insurer to find another one on their approved list. I hope the insurer agrees that I wasn't responsible for this. That the other driver tried this tight going-around maneuver in a large truck is what seemed most to impress my insurance adjuster.

concert (sort of) review: San Francisco Symphony (sort of)

I heard an ad for this on the radio, and it sounded interesting: something called The Music Critic - ok, my latter-day profession, so I'm curious already - apparently some sort of one-man show starring John Malkovich, but at Davies, the SF Symphony hall.

It wasn't a one-man show. It was two men and an orchestra. Essentially it was a musically-illustrated version of Nicolas Slonimsky's Lexicon of Musical Invective, "written and conceived" by violinist/conductor Aleksey Igudesman, who conducted the SFS in various pieces while Malkovich, miked at a music stand with his script on it, read aloud critical denunciations of the composers over (and occasionally under) the music.

Not necessarily old ones, either (Slonimsky published his Lexicon in 1953), though there were a few classics, like Tchaikovsky calling Brahms "a giftless bastard" or César Cui's description of a Rachmaninoff symphony as the product of "a conservatory in Hell." (No credit to Cui, though, or to most of the other critics, and certainly not to Slonimsky for having thought of this idea first.)

But there were also newer ones, e.g. several claims that Beethoven is a barrier to contemporary appreciation of classical music, or even that he's unappreciable by LGBTQ+ people. At one point Malkovich read negative You Tube comments on Igudesman's videos, enabling Igudesman to respond with Max Reger's famous dismissal of criticism as if he, Igudesman, had thought of it - though, as it refers to paper, it makes no sense in an online context.

At the end, the program fell apart. Igudesman coaxed Malkovich into reading critical reviews of Malkovich's own stage performances, after which Malkovich left the stage and Igudesman announced he was going to play something evidently as a quick encore, but then Malkovich came back on stage to interrupt with incoherent critiques of the way Igudesman was playing. This was supposed to be funny but was witless and annoying. The second time it happened, I just got up and left. I'd had enough.

the evil dex

The late blogger Kevin Drum was under treatment for many years for multiple myeloma, which eventually killed him about a year ago. He wrote often about his medical adventures, and had particularly strong feelings about a medication he was on, a steroid named dexamethasone, which he called "the evil dex."

What exactly was evil about it he never made exactly clear, but it seems that it prevented him from sleeping, leaving him groggy all the time.

I do not have myeloma, but I have been taking intermittent courses of dexamethasone - one to four days each - and have to report differently. It doesn't seem to have caused any disruption in my sleep, which has actually been getting less disrupted lately, and though that may be because I was taking the dex in the mornings, I've had it in the afternoons with no further effect.

What it does cause is a spike in blood sugar, which has to be watched over carefully. And either it or some of the other medications I've been taking at the same time has been causing constipation, about which the less said the better.

mystery solved

At Corflu, where the banquet was catered at our hotel meeting room from a Puerto Rican restaurant nearby, I was pretty sure I'd been to that restaurant before. Having gotten home, I went to leave a review on Yelp and discovered that not only had I been there (nine years ago, a wonder I remembered it) but I'd reviewed it.

Had I checked my review, I could have been definite on something I was trying vaguely to recall during conversations at the banquet. The food line offered two kinds of plantains, green and sweet. What I recalled was getting a mixture and liking one but not the other, but I couldn't remember which one. Turned out that what I'd written back then was, "The fried green plantains were fairly dry and crunchy, the sweet ones far too intensely sweet and got over anything they touched."

That was in contrast to general opinion at the banquet, which is that the green ones were inedible while the sweet ones were quite good. (I didn't have either this time.)

convention report: Corflu 43

Although I still receive a few fanzines, I consider myself retired from fanzine fandom, which is pretty much why I hadn't been to a Corflu, the annual convention of that small and elitist fraternity, in 15 years. But this one was to be in Santa Rosa, easily accessible from home, and the membership list was full of people I knew and would like to see again. So why not.

It felt like I'd never left. Conversations were resumed without any hitch. Only the visuals were startling. Many of us, and I don't except myself from this, have aged so much as to be hardly recognizable at first after a long time gap. And the number of physical infirmities and mobility aids was impressive. It's a sign of the times that, when 14 of us headed out on a group expedition to the Charles M. Schulz Museum (which I'd been to before more than once, but it's an excellent museum well worth revisiting), we all qualified for the senior discount but one, and she was given it by courtesy.

The hotel was a comfy Marriott just outside of downtown, with plenty of restaurants within walking distance, though because of my dietary restrictions I refrained from joining in. But I did risk the convention banquet, which was catered at our hotel meeting room from a Puerto Rican restaurant nearby, a favorite of Rich Coad, the convention chair. I was able to nibble at the ground beef picadillo, and some seasoned rice and beans, all delicious. It was an excellent choice of venue, at least for all of us, and the convention was altogether superbly run, so kudos to Rich and all the committee.

Interesting programming, too, curated by Jeanne Bowman. A couple panels on Bay Area fannish history, one on the Magic Cellar, which as moderator Deb Notkin aptly described it, was a nightclub that felt like home to the fans who frequented it; I was lucky enough to be one of its denizens for the last year of its existence in 1977-8. And a panel on local fandom of the 80s, which while it paid notice to the local clubs, the Little Men and PenSFA, which I frequented, concentrated on a circle focused in San Francisco some of whose members I knew well but which as a group I had no connection with.

Panels also on contemporary fan editing and APAs. I haven't belonged to an apa in 20 years, so some of the discussion of their migration away from print was news to me. I agree with the general opinion that an online discussion community isn't an apa, but the production of apazines as PDFs and their distribution over email, saving both the expense and time of physical mail - especially for international members - seemed a good idea, despite a song by Sandra Bond poking fun at the whole idea of efanzines that was sung lustily at closing ceremonies.

Of lighter programming, charades based on fanzine titles was a little dubious, especially as many of the attendees, including those tasked to do the charading, hadn't heard of some of the titles, and having them be ones we recognized was the whole point. On the other hand, slam storytelling - you get the microphone for five minutes, tell an amusing anecdote from your life - worked very well. The convention theme was pickles, so the storytellers worked that in somehow. In only a couple cases did that involve physical pickled cucumbers, but all the rest told of being in a pickle. Mostly stories of travel or of animals, or both. Tom Whitmore and Karen Anderson's story of transporting pet cats by car was perhaps the most amusing.

The Guest of Honor, name picked out of a hat as customary, was Jerry Kaufman, and his GoH speech at the banquet, on the embarrassing circumstances long ago which is why he never gives speeches, could have been another entry in the previous evening's storytelling. Past president of fwa, an honorary position chosen by acclamation, was Jeanne Gomoll. Geri Sullivan and Pat Virzi showed around the current draft of a book of Corflu memorabilia they're editing. Next year's Corflu will be in Vancouver BC, run by some of the same people running this one plus sundry.

I had a good time. I picked up a bunch of interesting-looking fanzines. I'm glad I came. Health permitting, I should resume going more often.

concert review: San Francisco Symphony

The problem with Mozart's Requiem is that he didn't live to finish it (ironically, since it's a requiem), and the substitute composers drafted in to complete the commission were not, frankly, very good. As a result a complete performance trails off awkwardly in the last few movements.

Various ideas have been tried to rescue the work from this problem. Today we had Manfred Honeck, music director from Pittsburgh, in to conduct his version. His plan is simply to cut out the parts Mozart had nothing to do with, and beef up the work by inserting other material. Sticking Ave Verum Corpus, a brief motet Mozart had written not much earlier, at the end was the conventional part of the plan; I've heard that done before, and it's a fine motet, so that works well. Also stuck in here, mostly as prelude but some as interludes, were other appropriate Mozart pieces, a movement from a Vespers and the Masonic Funeral Music, some Gregorian chants sung offstage by an almost inaudible male chorus, and some spoken readings, including the bit from Revelations about the Dies Irae, instantly followed by the music plunging into that movement of the Requiem.

The intent was to frame the work as a memorial for Mozart himself (highlighted by one of the readings being his letter to his dying father on the consolations of death), which was abruptly turned into a memorial for Joshua Robison, former SFS music director Michael Tilson Thomas's husband, who died last week. What it meant musically is that this was a very heavy, almost dragging, performance especially of the slow portions. I didn't find it very compelling artistically. That's a pity, because the performers (at least the ones onstage) were excellent, notably the Symphony Chorus which was as strong and rich as it's always been since Jenny Wong took over direction, and the soloists who don't get a lot, but of the four of them, all vivid with fine voices, the great Sasha Cooke stood out most.

Also on the program (the rebuilt Requiem took about an hour), works by Mozart's fellow Vienna classicists: Haydn's lively and quirky Symphony No. 93, and Beethoven's imposing Coriolan Overture, both more effectively put across than the main event.

three concerts in three days

It would have been four in four, except that a bad side-effects reaction to medication I'd been taking laid me out for a few days including Thursday's SF Symphony all-Beethoven concert. But I was feeling better by Friday.

Friday, Stanford Department of Music
All-Mendelssohn program by recent graduates. The Octet in full, the first two movements from the Op. 49 piano trio (in the opposite order. Why? Because they think it works better that way), and the first movement from the Op. 44/1 quartet. That last item was the best: dicey technically, but brought vivid soul to the music, especially the second theme.
Held not in the usual mini-auditorium but in the rehearsal hall, where there is little space. Already there was a small crowd there when I arrived half an hour early; by showtime the audience was bursting out of the room.

Saturday, Palo Alto Philharmonic
My niece's orchestra. Audible pizzicato thumps from the string basses, which she plays. Half Debussy: Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, Nuages, Fêtes. Surprisingly technically proficient, and fairly crisp in the execution, which does Debussy more credit than he deserves. Half Tchaikovsky: the Pathétique. Rougher, without much grace but gotten through effectively.

Sunday, Junction Trio
Noe Valley Ministry concert in the City. Worth it for an exquisite Schubert Op. 99, Conrad Tao's piano merging perfectly with the strings. A little less notable for Beethoven's "Ghost" Trio, not as charming and, alas, disfigured by having alien music inserted between the ghostly Largo and the finale: an equally spooky piece by contemporary composer John Zorn supposedly inspired by the Beethoven but sounding nothing like it, instead being an entry in the "bleeps and whispers" school of ultra-modernism. Plus some early fragments by John Cage in the ethereal wispy style he cultivated when still writing conventional scores.

the reference formerly known

Why aren't people referring to Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor as "the Andrew formerly known as Prince"?

evens

You know the theory for how to get a piece of cake or some such cut evenly between two people? Ask one of them to cut it and the other one to pick. That will give the cutter an incentive to cut evenly and not cheat.

But what if - I was thinking while slicing brussel sprouts in two for B.'s dinner - what if the person doing the cutting isn't very good at slicing exactly in half? Then the cutter will be cheating him/herself.

your favorite Le Guin

A couple weeks ago I reported on a survey of readers' favorite Tolkien novels, and since I was focusing on Le Guin for my trip to her museum exhibit, I might as well consider favorites in that area also.

I found a Reddit thread and another on this topic, and toted up the results. Much more widespread than with Tolkien; I found a total of 17 books chosen, not counting a few people who preferred to choose individual short stories. But the favorite seemed to be The Left Hand of Darkness, followed by The Lathe of Heaven and The Dispossessed. I'm pleased to see The Dispossessed high up; for a while back there I considered it, if not the best, the most under-rated major Le Guin novel. As for Lathe, I rather have the distinct impression that it got a lot more attention after the 1980 PBS dramatization than before.

But while I like all these books, my favorite is Always Coming Home. Like just about everybody on the Reddit threads who named it, my reaction on first reading it was to be blown away in amazement.

New work by an author or artist who's already a favorite of yours can be a challenge. The existing work you've absorbed, you know it well and it's a part of you. The new work you haven't, and my experience is that it often seems a bit inferior at first, even if on absorbing it fully you conclude that it's their best yet.

Only thrice in my experience with a currently-working author or artist whose work I already loved passionately, have I encountered a new work which so dazzled me on first encounter that I immediately concluded that this was their masterwork to date, better than anything that preceded it. Nor have subsequent events changed my mind. One of these was Steeleye Span's setting of "Tam Lin". One was Donald E. Westlake's Kahawa. The third was Always Coming Home.

I've written before, for instance here, about how, when I headed the local group to run Mythcon three years after ACH's publication and had Ursula as Guest of Honor, we constructed the entire convention around a celebration of that book, so I won't go into that more here.

Instead, I'll note some supplementaries. The books which originally sold me on Le Guin as an author I'd like were A Wizard of Earthsea and The Tombs of Atuan. I picked those up in a library, I think, and saw the map of Earthsea and the diagram of the tombs (only in early editions, I find) and recognized their similarity to maps I'd drawn myself to occupy tedious hours in the classroom. "This author has seen within my soul," I thought, and that began a permanent association.

I also have a sneaking fondness for The Beginning Place, because I think I'm one of the few readers to have figured out the real purpose of that book. It's often criticized, but what the critics cite as a flaw is actually the point.

As for Le Guin short stories, I think my favorite is "Direction of the Road," for the sheer unusualness of its viewpoint.