September 13th, 2005

food pr0n, cherries

Why have the vodka gods forsaken me?

Today was plasma donation, followed up by a Trader Joe's stop. I realized that since I'm only shopping for myself, I can get things that I actually want to eat, and I won't have to worry about whether or not I'm tying up the household budget and storage space in things that no one else likes. That meant that I could explore the store for things I'd never been looking for before. And lo and behold...

Trader Joe's has frozen orange chicken.

I was transported with glee! Orange chicken! Trader Joe's quality, Trader Joe's prices, and I now have a thermos-bag to take frozen things home by bus during the hot, hot days of summer! Alas that I had not made this discovery while the household was still intact!

I bought one package, to see how I liked it before committing to more than just a few meals of this. The down side of not having roommates is that one has to either consume all of one's culinary mistakes, or let them go to waste. So simple to cook -- toss the chicken in the oven, heat the packets of sauce, coat the chicken in the sauce and serve.

And the first taste was like the culinary gods forsaking me.

The sauce is tart with vinegar, not citrus. If tastes were smell, this would be the first fumbling attempts of the juniormost apprentice of a perfumer ejected from the imperial courts of Cetaganda for incompetence to duplicate by rote the scent of the rose from elemental building blocks. It tastes Western. It tastes of refined sugar and mass production. It tastes like mall food.

It's actually not too horribly bad once the sauce has had a few hours in the refrigerator to mix with the chicken.
running, bomb tech


The season's shifted over. It's still hot out there, but it's not as dreadfully scorching as the height of summer. Night smells of fall, now. The air's cooled, and the scents of the season are present. The smoke, the crisp death of plants, and that temperature change that speaks of preservation and slow decay under the other elements and recycling creatures rather than a swift and gross decomposition and dessication under the punishing sun.

It's Fall. I can smell it.

(And I miss him. The light in his eyes is the light at my heart. It gets worse when I smell the night air. I imprinted on him to that scent. All of us did.)
teddyborg, geeky

Napoleon Dynamite vs. Numa Numa: links, internet culture vaporware, and music vaporware!

Via theferrett: Napoleon Dynamite dances to the Numa Numa song.

This, and the original Numa Numa geek, have to make it on my eventual vaporware disc of The Best of the Internet. I have this silly idea that the Internet is in fact a culture unto itself, based on how the people who do not live here look at me when I make casual references to the things that most LJ people have at least heard of in passing. The Best of the Internet would be a CD with some of the best and most central to the web culture things out there. There would be a lot of silly dancing: Yatta! might be on there, and of course Zero Wing and an essay explaining same, and perhaps some badgers. There would be collections of links to useful resources, along with explanations: free webmail, Wikipedia, Snopes, IMDB, Google. And you could hand a copy of this disk to your utterly net-clueless friend and either let them play around with it or point out your favorite things, without having to contend with their dial-up internet in order to download quite a few of those things...

Dragostea Din Tei, the song in question, is utterly addictive. It's poppy, perky, and I found myself trying to sing it in the shower. It took a few tries before I was satisfied that I was actually hitting the notes right, as it's a moderately difficult song.

I wouldn't say that I have perfect pitch. I'm functionally illiterate as far as music goes: I can follow along with music, I know the names of the pitch-notes, and I know the names of the symbol-notes and other musical symbols, but if you give me a sheet of music, I can't read it and hear the notes in my head the way I hear the words in my head when I read text. I have to sound it out with a piano or something, and my rhythm is utterly off. But when I know how something sounds, I can tell when something hits the pitch true or not.

I know there are music notation programs out there that will use synthesizer to play back to you what you've just written. I know there are programs out there that will take scanned-in music sheets and convert these to a score in the program. I know that a computer can generate a pitch; I know it is possible to see if something matches a pitch or not.

Vaporware: Rehearsal Studio. You can scan in your score that you're supposed to be practicing, confirm that the scan took, and correct any mistakes the scan-transcription may have made. (Added a dot, deleted a dot, misinterpreted something, etc.) The computer will play the song back to you as it's supposed to be sung or played. You plug in your microphone, do some practice pitches and timings to set the two of you on the same page. You set the program's metronome for a time you can keep up with for rehearsal, and start up. The computer compares your pitch to true, based on where you're supposed to be in the song. It may or may not play along with you, depending.

There may already be something like that out there, but that would be utterly useful if you've never heard what you're supposed to be singing, and can't hear it in your head like I can't, and don't have a tuning utility in your head like I actually do.
  • Current Music
    "Dragostea Din Tei" O-Zone
phone, cordless phone

(no subject)

Amberfox was kind enough to give me geek perspective in the form of "No, your palmtop doesn't need wireless or camera."
phone, cordless phone

(no subject)

You heard about the intergalactic punster who got in trouble with the mob off earth? He ran into some Mars Capones.