BBC Four's "Brian Eno, Another Green World"

My quick, annotated notes from a first late-night watching of this:

Production standards of: 1) State of Independence, 2) Tomorrow Never Knows, 3) Velvet Underground

"you're getting humans learning from machines."

The Lafayettes - "Life's Too Short"

"I spent a large part of my childhood singing things I don't understand. [...] I just sang it as pure sound."

"listen to nothing."

"I used to have 7 of these."  re: Yamaha DX-7 synths

"I wanted the idea to be seductive and the result to be seductive."

switching from Art Context to Health Context (re: Bloom, relaxation, etc.)

"I make my own target around wherever my arrow landed."

"Gospel music is never pessimistic."

[ thx Brian Eno ]

Poached Eggs, by Kenny Shopsin

There's a whole mystique about making POACHED EGGS that I've never understood.  It's just like making sunnies: You crack the eggs in a bowl, heat the pan, slide them in-- only there's water in the pan instead of butter.  The way I make them, they're simple-- no swirling shit around.  No vinegar.  No little cups to break the eggs in.  You do have to pay attention to the heat, though.  You don't want the water to boil rapidly, but you don't want the water to stop boiling, either, so you have to make adjustments to the heat while the eggs are cooking.  And you do need a slotted spoon to get them out.  That's the only special tool.  They are so easy and really delicious.  Poached eggs have all the runny, eggy goodness of a sunny without the distraction of the butter flavor.  As I get older, I'm less and less prone toward gilding something that is already perfect.  There's nothing better than a poached egg on a piece of crunchy buttered toast or English muffin.  Nothing.

Kenny Shopsin, p. 47 from his Eat Me, The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin

"My Way Killings" in the Philippines

Jes Aznar for The New York Times

Next, he belted out crowd-pleasers by Tom Jones and Engelbert Humperdinck. But Mr. Gregorio, 63, a witness to countless fistfights and occasional stabbings erupting from disputes over karaoke singing, did not dare choose one beloved classic: Frank Sinatra’s version of “My Way.”

“I used to like ‘My Way,’ but after all the trouble, I stopped singing it,” he said. “You can get killed.”

The authorities do not know exactly how many people have been killed warbling “My Way” in karaoke bars over the years in the Philippines, or how many fatal fights it has fueled. But the news media have recorded at least half a dozen victims in the past decade and includes them in a subcategory of crime dubbed the “My Way Killings.”

The killings have produced urban legends about the song and left Filipinos groping for answers. Are the killings the natural byproduct of the country’s culture of violence, drinking and machismo? Or is there something inherently sinister in the song?

Roaratorio (1992)

"In his preface to A Finnegans Wake Gazetteer, Louis Mink says that the time for naïve enjoyment of Finnegans Wake is past. He says that now we are obliged to continue the scholarly unravelling of its mysteries. And an editorial in a magazine published at the Centre Pompidou says that the most urgent and important art work to be done now is to come to an analytical understanding of the art of the twentieth century. I don't agree. I think that we can still at unexpected moments be surprised by the beauty of the moon though now we can travel to it. And I think that the artists of the twentieth century who resist our understanding are the ones to whom we shall continue to be grateful. Besides Joyce there is Duchamp. And Satie whose work, though seemingly simple, is no less difficult to understand than that of Webern. Somewhere in the Wake Joyce says 'Confusium hold'em!' I hope that Roaratorio will act to introduce people to the pleasures of Finnegans Wake when it is still on the side of poetry and chaos rather than something analyzed and known to be safe and law-abiding." -John Cage