Hugs Not Bugs

I went to a benefit tonight as part of a radio assignment. The event consisted of several speakers including three young people, two of whom have HIV and a third whose mother has HIV, and they all gave speeches about how HIV has affected their lives and how hard it is to be public about the disease. It was pretty powerful. I interviewed the speakers afterward. One girl, who is 17 and an eloquent speaker, gave me a terrific interview. She was so poised and friendly. It was funny, because I am such a crummy interviewer when I have a microphone in front of me. I just feel really rude and like I’m invading people’s space. But, of course, this girl has a lot of practice talking to strangers and making them feel comfortable, and she’s probably been in front of dozens of mics. So, of course, I was completely nervous and awkward, and by contrast this teen was totally cool.

At the end of the interview, I went to shake her hand, and she said “Naw, how about a hug.” It was really sweet, because I just don’t get very many hugs these days, especially since I left Austin (except from Scott of course), and I needed a bit of TLC from this precociously maternal teenage girl.

Only when I got on the subway did I realize that of course the hugging thing was part of the message. It wasn’t just because I looked like I needed a hug. They wanted everyone to be comfortable with the disease and understand that hugging is safe, etc. The funny part is that I had spent the entire afternoon obsessively washing my hands because this one guy with a cold shook my hand earlier and I didn’t want his cold. It didn’t even occur to me to fear getting HIV, but I was freaking out about the cold germs. Of course, that’s the way it should be because you can get a cold from a handshake and not HIV.

The point of this rambling soliloquy: This is proof that AIDS awareness activists have actually gotten somewhere in the last 20 years. I wouldn’t have felt this way when I was a kid, back when every one was freaking out about HIV, and somewhere along the way a transition occurred that I didn’t even notice.

Here’s the link to my story.

[Image from: http://www.aids.hacettepe.edu.tr/]

Autocannibalization Needs Salt

I had a dream last night in which it was the future and politicians had made a law that de-stigmatized cannibalism, as long as no one was suffering, however that works. Anyway, everyone immediately thought eating human meat was okay and not creepy or wrong, just because it was no longer against the law. But, I still had this feeling it was wrong. To add to the weirdness, someone also had just invented a kind of human cloning that allowed you to cultivate a full-grown clone of yourself in just a few weeks. So, maybe you can see where this is going… Someone made a clone of me, my clone died, and then for some reason I was coerced into making a stew out of my clone self and then eating it.

I tasted bland.

Self Psychoanalyst: Geez, could I be any more transparent?

[Image from: http://www.suegregg.com/recipes/soups/splitpeasoup/splitpeasoup640x480.htm]

Garden Dreams

I miss the smell of good soil, finding plump earthworms in your garden bed, planning the layout of the veggies and spice plants, scoring and soaking seeds, checking on the lil’ sprouts, the satisfaction of composting, buying six-packs of baby plants, purchasing and orchestrating hi-tech irrigation systems, shopping for funky pots, pulling apart delicate root balls, and dreaming of tomato season. I also miss redbud trees and agave plants.

From a recent trip to Austin, where spring is now:

Colour Me Cowardly

As part of an application for a summer internship, I completed a writing test today for New Scientist, a prominent British science magazine that has a bureau here in Boston. The editor gave me the assignment last Friday, and I had exactly one week to find a news story, interview scientists, and write a 600 word article about it. No problem, I’ve been doing this every week or two for a couple of my classes. I thought that the biggest challenge would be making sure that I used the British spellings of words (e.g. analyse, colour, nanometer, etc.). But, apparently, when it comes to timed writing, I crack under pressure. I could barely keep it together.

For some reason, though I usually have a plethora of story ideas, I couldn’t get excited about a single one this week. I ended up reluctantly choosing a story about comets because I’ve been doing so many astronomy pieces of late that I thought I would at least feel comfortable with the topic and had a good relationship with enough sources that I wouldn’t get bogged down by a lack of information. Also, though I usually procrastinate on assignments, for this one, I started right away. Yet, even with these two things going for me, I almost bombed.

Two things happened. First, I didn’t make the connection until Thursday, that they made this announcement about comets at a comet conference in Houston, and thus, all the reliable comet scientists were unreachable because they were all, well, in Houston. (DUH!)

The other thing that happened was that I totally psyched myself out. I couldn’t stand the idea that whether or not I would get this great job all hinged on how I did with just 600 words. I couldn’t concentrate, got a terrible case of writer’s block, and basically left myself no time to edit my submission because I finished it at 5:45 pm—15 minutes before the deadline.

The sad part is that the very people who can relate to this painful drama are my competitors. All of my classmates are going through the same thing, though only one of them also had this particular writing test. I never know if they want to commiserate about how hard this is or whether they are secretly resenting me for any of my meager successes. It may be all in my head, but usually we share such warm camaraderie and lately I haven't felt it. I guess it’s odd that, until now, I’ve managed to avoid the whole cutthroat academic atmosphere that is usually inherent to graduate programs. I suppose it was unavoidable.

The good thing is that even though I didn’t do the best writing I could have, I at least finished the damn thing (barely in time), it had some sort of a point (though meager), and it fleshed out a semi-newsy topic (however unimportant). My victory: I didn’t completely embarrass myself. If for some crazy reason I do get the job, it will in spite of this writing test and not because of it.

Wild-2, My Favourite Comet of Late : )

[Image from: http://science.nasa.gov/headlines/y2004/16jan_stardust.htm]

I ain’t got the blues.

Sorry for the long absence; t’was a ferocious week of term papers and then spring break, which I took as a break from all writing, including blogging.

Today I bombed a guitar test. I got a B-, which sounds like a good grade, but really it’s not. The funny thing is that I really was better prepared than I sounded. It’s just the performance that I suck at, and with a guitar test that’s all that really matters. Basically, I couldn’t keep up with the professor’s strumming, so even though I could play every note of Norwegian Wood, I just couldn’t play it at the same pace as him. Then, to top it all off, he asked me to bust out with an extemporaneous blues riff. Good lord. Not only do I not have rhythm, but I have no soul. Thanks for pointing that out so officially Professor Warren.

Poor Professor Warren. Today, he had to listen to at least 30 students play the same tired Beatles song…and badly at that.

[Image from: http://www.balboafeet.com/articles/gypsyswing.php]

More ‘Fichin’

If you ever feel like traveling back in time, go to the library and scan through a microfiche reel containing issues of 1960s Time magazines (serendipitous pun!). I did a bit of that this afternoon for the professor I am working for. Not only does the magazine itself generate anachronistic ambience, but the machine is straight from a nearly expired era. All its parts are giant and clunky, and the deteriorating grey plastic looks like it was skinned from my family’s first Apple IIe. It doesn’t even have a digital display. Instead, if anything goes awry, a red light with a funny icon lights up. After a few of these error messages blinked at me, signaling yet another delay in my attempt to make barely legible copies of a seriously out-of-date mag, I realized the icon is a symbolic representation of a sheet of paper moving through a series of rollers in the printing mechanism. That is, there is a paper jam and you have to disembowel the dinosaur and prod it back into functionality. I wonder how long it will take librarians to get an electronic version of all those old archives. Until then, it’s kind of fun to do it the old fashioned way.

[Image from: http://www.gl.iit.edu/govdocs/micro/micro.html]

Micro-Fache

I had an exciting face off with a B-school jerk today. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating my side of the conflict. I was too shocked to say anything back really, but he did sass me pretty good. Here’s how it went:

I was doing a little microfiche research as part of my teaching assistantship. I hadn’t used one of those hunks of junk since, maybe, junior high. It was pretty fun trying to figure out how to get the little spool loaded and the image aligned and in focus. I was a little self-conscious about how much noise I was making, because the machine’s motor and the spinning spool were quite loud, but whatever, I didn’t choose to locate this dinosaur in the middle of a public study area.

Anyway, I had everything lined up to make a copy, and when I popped in a quarter (highway robbery: one quarter = one copy!), nothing happened. I put another quarter in the machine and again, nothing happened. I pressed several buttons and then hit the change return button. Suddenly, it was like Las Vegas and I hit the jackpot at the slots! The machine started spitting out quarter after quarter--probably $10 worth came out in the end. Ka-chunk, ka-ching, ka-chunk, ka-ching!! It was pretty funny, so I was cracking up. Now, keep in mind, this was in a library, so there were dozens of students nearby, all studying in silence. Thus, the sound effects from my lack of lo-tech know-how were magnified by my embarrassment and their annoyance. I ran to get the librarian who came to my rescue. He banged around the inside of the machine, readjusted all my handiwork, and stole back all the quarters (damn--that was laundry money!). All the while, he was talking in a regular voice, not the stereotypical librarian whisper. I took his cue and responded at the same decibel--plus, maybe a little louder so he could hear me over his clattering repairs.

Well, of course, you can guess how this ended. Some little snotty kid stood up, glared, and sneered that couldn’t we tell that he and his comrades were all trying to read and *this* had been going on for at least 5 minutes. I wanted to snap back, “Look, it’s only for a short while and once I get this figured out, I will be out of your wormy little way. And, can’t you see that this man is the Librarian?! He is like the sheriff, and what he says goes in this town.” Fortunately, a wise little voice of reason in my head reminded me that I was about a decade too old to be trying to out-sass the undergrads, and I didn’t say anything back. But, I fumed about it all afternoon. Hah, take that!

[Image from: http://www.mixnet.biz/services/microfilm.asp]

[Image from: http://www.jokejam.com/cartoons.htm]

Fumble Fest

Boy, have I got a lot to learn about radio. Nina and I had our first live radio newscast today. If you listened in, you might have thought that we hadn’t prepared at all, but in fact, we spent a total of maybe five woman-hours preparing for it. And, the show lasted a whole whopping 16 minutes! AND, nine of those minutes were pre-produced radio packages from two of our classmates. Okay, enough math.

I had no idea there were so many things to keep track of when deejaying. Every new form of sound that you use--voice on mic, mini-disc track, CD track, mp3 file--requires that you push the correct, poorly labeled button and often push up the little scroll-y bar thing. What the hell are those called? Anyway, for each transition, I’d panic, trying to figure out which thing to fade up and which thing to fade down. Plus, people kept walking in and giving us suggestions for things we should add to spice up the show--during the show! For example, the silly trumpet news theme music was added at the last minute. Because BU doesn’t have an abandoned radio studio for students to practice on, we couldn’t really practice unless we practiced on air, or at least that is what they told us. And to top it all off, we had to write intros and modify stories on the fly while the mini-disc tracks were playing. It was quite exciting. I think I had enough adrenaline pumped into my veins to lift a car. I didn’t come down for another hour at least.

I didn’t even get into the writing part of it. I hadn’t realized that most of the writing on deadline that I do involves knowing the stuff before hand and then writing it all quickly. The time I spend beforehand is what I call “percolation time.” You don’t get any of that in the newsroom. Plus, radio writing needs to be a lot more interesting to hold the listener’s attention. Or, perhaps all of my writing needs to be more interesting. Hmm…I’m thinking I am learning more than I thought I would from this whole experience. We’ll see how it goes next week.

To listen to the archive, follow the link to the WTBU website. Go to “Schedule” and look for the 2:00 pm to 6:00 pm “Rock Block.” You have to scroll to about an hour and a half into the show to hear Nina and me.

[Image from: http://www.uncleozzie.com/trips/reviews.html]

Dog’s Adrift

Dogs + Giant snow drifts = Great fun!

The dogs are very excited about last night’s snowfall. They are so cute, tearing around like four-year-olds on sugar. I haven’t seen this much pooch glee since Athena caught her first squirrel. Okay, I actually didn’t get to see that, but I hear she was pretty darn euphoric. (Poor squirrel!) I took them to the park and it felt like being a contestant in the Iditarod. They could not wait to be unleashed and were practically dragging me up the hill. Their favorite snow-time activity: playing fetch with snowballs, eating them, and then puking up the melt water. Even kids aren’t this easy to entertain.

Lil’ Tex’s First Blizzard

I think this is my first blizzard. It isn’t so bad, because I guess we’re only getting about a foot or so, but I’m choosing to stay inside all day. It did not occur to me until my brother mentioned it offhand last night that one should prepare for a blizzard. Apparently everyone else knew this, so when I went to the store last night, it was packed with people buying supplies, well, groceries anyhow. It’s not like a hurricane where you have to board up your windows and get canned food and water, but you can just count on everything being difficult to do the next day, or so I hear.

Wow, it is white out there!

[Image from: http://www.unl.edu/scarlet/v13n5/v13n5nibs.html]

Anchor-wo-man

You are looking at the new news anchorperson for WTBU Radio on Thursdays from 3:30-4:00 PM! That’s right, I’m going to be writing and reading news stories for the college radio station along with co-anchor, Nina, a woman from my Public Radio class. So, what will we talk about for half an hour? Good question. I’m thinking there will be segment with a Science Friday-esq spin to it, in which I interview local scientists live. Also, I would like to do a movie review every week. Plus, there will be BU and Boston news, the usual AP drivel on national news, and hopefully some of my classmates will allow me to broadcast their excellent feature stories. I’ll let you all know as soon as it airs, but I might get to do my first broadcast next week. You can listen in by following this link to the WTBU website.

Ow! My eye! …oh

A first for this southerner: I got a snowflake in my eye. I saw this giant white chunk coming at me. I felt it touch my sclera and I started to panic…must protect…valuable organ…primary shield (glasses lens) has failed! Then it melted immediately, of course. Quite refreshing actually, like a squirt of chilled Visine.

I’m guessing this is one of those things that most people who grew up around real winters experienced often as a child. Maybe, like running around with their tongues out, they also ran around trying to catch snowflakes in their eyeballs for fun. I know nothing about this. It occurs to me there are probably a thousand aspects of snow, ice, and other sub-freezing eventualities that I am ignorant of. Did they suck on icicles like ice-pops? Did they crunch the snow drifts like a crème brulee? Did they eat snow-cream? Did they watch as dogs made yellow-rimmed cenotes in snow piles? Did they examine the patterns in frost on window panes? Did they really get their tongues stuck on metal poles? Did they see cave formations in waterfalls? I’ve only read about these things, and as an adult, I don’t make time for finding out myself.

Those precious years when I was a young child and had all the curiosity, time, and patience for exploring the world at a face-to-the-ground level were spent in warmer climes. I know everything there is about ant-lion pits, the paper cuts you get from trying to weave baskets out of giant grasses (the kind with puffy cream plumes), the feel of agave flesh under your finger nails (and how to pinch off the spines and poke them into the leaves like a pomander), and keeping an eye out for water moccasins while hunting for tadpoles. But, I am a novice when it comes to snow.

[Image from: http://www.its.caltech.edu/~atomic/book/snowflake.htm]

Movie-Manic

In case you haven’t noticed, I am now in the movie-watching phase of year, in which I start to get a little obsessed with viewing all of the Oscar nominees. This is a nasty vice, I’ll admit. It is expensive and it is not clear that it improves my life in any way. Plus, I miss school and work deadlines and alienate my husband in trying to cram a year’s worth of schlock-y movie watching into four weeks. I’m sad this year, because I don’t really have a chance to throw my annual Academy Award’s party, but nonetheless, I’m still frantically trying to see all the nominees before the big date. I really should see a doctor about this obsession--a head doctor that is. I suspect it has something to do with another secret stress-relieving habit that I have: making to-do lists and crossing off items on said lists. My movie list is really just a to-do list, and going to the movie is crossing off one more list item. It feels like what I imagine that shooting heroine feels like to an addict. It also feels like what I know for a fact that peeling stickers off and sticking them onto things feels like to someone (eg. me) who has a tactile peeling fetish.

Shew, I feel like I just went to confession.

[Image from: http://www.wackypackages.org/stickers/cloth/peeling.html]

Match-disa-Point and Hustle & Whoa!

Two movies that I felt certain I knew were about one thing but turned out to be the complete opposite: Match Point and Hustle & Flow, both Oscar nominees by the way. (Dear reader, while this is not a spoiler per se, if you want to experience the thrill of not knowing at all what a movie is about before you see it, please don’t read the rest of this entry and just head straight to the theater or video store immediately.) To add to the surprise is the fact that they are thematically inverses of one another. I didn’t read much about either of these movies before viewing them and only had the previews to go on, which is very likely why I was so astonished. The opening of Match Point promised that it would be Woody Allen’s attempt at the sweet treacle of a Wimbledon II, but it turned out to be “the feel-bad movie of the year” according to moi. (Sorry, quoting oneself in an article is a journalism no-no, but this is my blog, so who cares.) I came home from seeing Match Point and realized that I desperately needed to see some movie about bunnies or some other cutie-pie antidote, because I was afraid of slitting my wrists it was so depressing. (For some reason Scott and I started watching Bram Stokers Dracula, I can’t tell you why, but I put an end to that and snuggled up with the New Yorker instead.) It turns out I should have watched Hustle & Flow, but I wasn’t clued into that at the time. Hustle & Flow seemed like it would be one of those hour-and-a-half train wrecks in which you grind a millimeter off your tooth enamel waiting for the shit to hit the fan because, you think, how could a movie about a destitute pimp/rapper and his herd of dirty little whores turn out well? But, no, in fact it was downright heartwarming, and I mean compared to, say, It's a Wonderful Life! I cried from the sweet sappiness of it all. Go rent it immediately!

[Image from: http://regencymovies.com/movieRunDetail.php?theaterId=10&movieRunId=1147&movieId=265]

My Pet Cloud

I had another moment of geek euphoria in discussing my latest science article with my feature writing professor. I am writing a piece on a magical material called aerogel, which is kind of like hard foam, and it is the lightest solid on Earth (officially named so by the Guinness Book of World Records). Okay, you might not be impressed yet, but please sit down for this next little factoid: It is transparent! That’s right, it is like a super-lightweight glass. In addition to being porous and having some wack acoustic and kinetic properties, it also happens to be an excellent insulating material, so it has all sorts of possibilities for use as insulating glass in greenhouses, solar swimming pool heaters, and satellites. This January, NASA just retrieved a space capsule called Stardust that collected comet dust in aerogel so perfectly it made a bunch of astronomers weep with joy during a press conference. Clearly, it is one of the hottest things in materials science these days.

Really, this stuff will blow your mind. Please refer immediately to the pictures posted below to get an idea of how weird it looks. Chunks of aerogel look completely alien, like some sort of ghost foam. People are so captivated by its mystique that they have given it names like frozen fog, solid smoke, and (my favorite) pet clouds. There is a funny description on the website of some researchers who I might interview in which they say that your first encounter with aerogel goes something like this: You cup it carefully in your hand and comment on how lightweight and translucent it is. You gingerly press it to see if it is flexible. Upon noting with surprise that it is strong, you press it harder. At this point, the aerogel shatters into a thousand pieces, and a look of panic comes over your face. You’ve killed it! Just so I can experience the feel of it myself, I am tempted to spend the 25 bucks it costs to get a lab in Wisconsin to send me a piece the size of a stack of about 6 quarters.

Take a gander at these pics snagged from U. Wisconsin, NASA, and the Lawrence Berkeley Lab:

[Image from: http://homepages.cae.wisc.edu/~aerogel/aboutaerogel.html]

[Image from: http://stardust.jpl.nasa.gov/photo/aerogel.html]

[Image from: http://www.lbl.gov/Science-Articles/Archive/aerogel-insulation.html]

First Radio Piece

A very exciting day for me--I just completed my first radio piece. It is a bit amateur because my interview tapes were not clean and I am not very good with sound level editing. However, I am pleased with it. I’m not sure if this is the usual pace of audio file production or if I am just suffering from beginner’s pokiness, but it took me probably 11 hours of taping, logging, writing, and sound editing to produce a whopping 2 minutes of sound!

Click on this mp3 link to hear the radio piece.

Rest in Peace, Sweet Otto-Spot

Dearest Otto,

We’ll miss you sweet pup. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with you in the last half of your life, but I have some very fond memories of the first half. You were the cutest little teddy bear of a puppy. It must have been the chow in you, but I remember thinking that it was impossible for you to be any cuter. And when you were older, you were the best guard dog a scaredy-cat girl could ever have. I never felt afraid of the murder-rapists with you in the house. You were a very special dog and will always claim a sacred place in the dog-loving parts of my heart (which grow bigger every day).

love,
your old roomie

P.S. to my readers:

I’ve had many a run-in with my own dogs in which I’ve thought, “Why couldn’t you be more like Otto, who doesn’t chew up my things and doesn’t chase cats and is very tidy about his poo habits!?” I know, it’s bad to say that to a little innocent animal, but hopefully dogs don’t understand English and therefore are not traumatized by this kind of out-loud thinking. As dog owners, we get to choose which habits we work on and which we let slide, so really, I know that it’s my fault my dogs are cat-terrorists. Cosmo, my fat orange cat, got along better with Otto than any other dog I have known--in particular my own.

I do remember that once, when I was living with Otto, we had a strange homeless girl living on our couch, I can’t remember why, and Otto got into her stash of chocolate bars, cigarettes, and marijuana. (Apparently, though residentially challenged, her life wasn’t so bad.) Despite the rumor that chocolate kills canines, Otto just seemed a little out of it that evening, thank goodness, and the whole incident turned out to be humorous. In fact, I remember that this feat of gastric strength always seemed to impress college guys who heard the story, I don’t know why. I wish I could think of a more-flattering and less-bizarre vignette from Otto’s little doggie life, but alas, only the extraordinary comes to mind at the moment. I hope that Otto forgives my weakness in the memory department.

This is not Otto, but it reminds of him as a puppy:

[Image from: http://community.webshots.com/photo/81561892/1090212776033696810zfVgrb]

Good Vibrations

Another unusual day of good weather led to my sitting with the dogs on a street bench in Cambridge, while Scott shopped for art supplies. I felt a subtle rumbling under my seat, which at first I thought was an earthquake. Do we get seismic activity up here?! But then I realized that it must be the subway. How funny it is to live in a large city and experience such sensations, which are so quotidian to everyone else but novel to me. The same thing is still true of snow. Every once in a while I will be walking down the street, laboring through mountainous snowdrifts and accidentally skating on slick patches of black ice, and I’ll think, “I live here--in a city where snow is boring and people don’t think that the subway is an exotic urban adventure!” How long before it is no longer unfamiliar?

[Image from: http://www.hibblenradio.com/transportation.html]

The Digital Trojan Horse--Revealed!

My latest assignment for my Science Magazine class will be on the infamous Sony rootkit, an evil piece of digital rights management software that Sony has snuck into many CDs to keep consumers from making and sharing mp3s of the music they just legally bought. It’s basically a newfangled pirate catcher. An unfortunate side effect of this music industry giant infecting your computer is that this tricky piece of code cannot be removed from your machine without permanently damaging the security of your computer. I’m excited because I found out accidentally through my daily trawling on boingboing.net that some respectable academic types, two computer scientists from Princeton, are writing an intellectual paper on the whole debacle. I will hopefully be able to interview them and write a pretty compelling piece on the whole controversy. It’s nice to get some technical expertise to backup one’s conspiratorial paranoiac fantasies. Plus, because there seems to be very little high-profile reporting on this topic, as far as I can tell, I might be getting to do some real-world investigating--very exciting!

[Image from: http://www.albany.edu/cetl/about/studios.html]

Ambience

As part of my Advanced Public Radio class…Wait, I have to stop and tell you about this awesome class! It is like a dream come true that such a class exists and I get to take it. My weekly homework assignment is to listen to at least 7 hours of public radio each week, including Talk of the Nation, All Things Considered, Science Friday, This American Life, Marketplace, and BBC World. I also add Prairie Home Companion and Car Talk, just because they are quality shows. Then, we talk about these shows and how to produce them. I have to write and produce five mini stories over the semester. This is exactly what I want to do! It is quite difficult getting to know the equipment and software alone. But, it is also a whole new world of thinking about things from a sound perspective and retraining your ear (and mouth) for radio interviewing. So, getting back to what this blog entry is about…For class, I had to make a recording of ambient noise in some setting and then produce a 2 minute radio piece that immerses the listener in that scene.

I chose as my scene an exhibit at the Museum of Science that includes this crazy Rube-Goldberg-device-like audio-kinetic sculpture. The title of the sculpture is Archimedean Excogitation and it was done by an artist named George Rhodes. I think I’ve seen his work at an airport somewhere, but I’m not sure. Basically, it is a bunch of billiard balls racing around on metal tracks and bonking into things that make noise or cause gears and doodads to move. It was quite captivating. Children seemed to be especially fascinated with it. Parents would sit down next to the sculpture to take a break from a long day of museum exploration and let their children run around and look at the sculpture. But, then when mom and dad thought the break should be over, they’d find that their kids did not want to leave! They were completely transfixed by the sculpture and did not want to go see any of the other exhibits. We’re talking exhibits that include dinosaur bones, live hatchings of baby chicks, monkeys swinging on vines, and robots doing all sorts of things--all of these exhibits were as dull as dirt compared to this 20-year-old sculpture. How funny is that? As soon as I get the radio piece made, I’ll see if I can’t post an mp3 of it on this site.

Here are some pics I snagged from the artist’s site and a fan’s site:

[Image from: http://www.georgerhoads.com/Monumental.html]

[Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/troybthompson/tags/ma/page4/]