Friday, June 29, 2007


JESS: You don't even know anything about my Supreme Court case.

SCOTT: Yeah, I do. It involved global warming. You were for it, or against it, or didn't believe in it or something.

JESS: Against it.

And a lot of damned good you did. It's still hot as hell.

Busy day. Fake test:

You'd think a practice MBE would only produce practice anxiety.
And yet I find myself at least half heartedly cramming.


Just pretend it's an exam that doesn't matter. Like the Idaho Bar.

Then had to call five different numbers to get a replacement health insurance card since my current one, unlaminated, dissolved in my wallet. Cutting through red tape jungles in attempt to consolidate some loans. Gym and Five Guys then my nightly meet and greet 'round Arlington. Mix in some contracts study.

Hmm, have to write Cambra.

Just started listening to the Beethoven piano sonata cycle. I know them all. I'm always floored. So perfect.

Thursday, June 28, 2007


Lost my debit card today but got it back. Sweet-talked my way onto a crosstown bus without paying. Ate all three meals a growing boy needs.

Now that I think about it, I haven't stopped moving once until this moment.

SCOTT: Speaking of legs, look at my calves.

JESS: Wow.

SCOTT: Not bad, right? I mean, how did that happen?

JESS: I'm impressed.


JAY: Where does somebody park a Segway?

SCOTT: That's not a bad Zen koan.

JAY: It's not a koan. It's a perfectly valid question.

SCOTT: Makes you think.

JAY: No, it doesn't! I mean, do they park it in a special Segway parking spot?

SCOTT: That is so deep.

JAY: Why is that deep! It's just a question.


JAY: Mu?

SCOTT: That's my response. Mu.

Ah, plus, David graduated! And found himself a job doing something he loves! And made the Dean's list! That's my brother.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Perfect Fool

I've fallen in love with this ballet. Really the entire album.

The Sinfonia da Requiem is effective enough, if not the deepest piece, but the Peter Grimes Interludes and Passacaglia are masterful. The Perfect Fool is as fun as the Planets, if briefer, with the typical Holstian melody cobbled together with perfect fourths and irregular meter (the Spirits of Earth movement is, I'm reasonably sure, in 7/4). Both composers have got orchestration that's as clear and piercing as triangle, never a line lost or veiled.

I even remember when I bought this album. Jacob was visiting and we went to the Tower Records in Philadelphia, where the classical section was huge; Jacob asked some flaming clerk for recommendations.

Alas, I saw the husk of that Tower Records when I was in Philly two weeks ago.

DC is about two degrees Fahrenheit short of me becoming a nudist.

[9:08:19 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says:
20 more pages to outline. I've done 50 in the last hour. I'm going to get this done and then play some WoW.

[9:08:43 PM] Scott says: Yeah, I guess I should start another topic.

[9:09:15 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says:
Slow down, there. You only need to know enough to pass.

[9:09:57 PM] Scott says:
Incorporation is the opposite of corporation, right?

[9:11:42 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says: When I used to post on uiuc.test, whenever someone said anything I thought was funny enough to use as my signature line for a while, I‘d say “Booyakasha!”

[9:11:45 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says: Booyakasha!


[9:36:53 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says:
I found Mark's sperm:

[9:37:53 PM] Scott says:
The whale tail is a nice touch.

[9:38:09 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says:
I think it's really supposed to be a sperm whale. It was a sea-themed parade.

[9:38:41 PM] Scott says:
Send it to him if you haven't yet.

[9:39:12 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says:
I'll put it on his Facebook wall.

[9:39:33 PM] Scott says:
Please use the caption: I found your sperm.

[9:39:39 PM] Scott says:
I found your sperm in Coney Island.

[9:39:50 PM] Jay Goodman Tamboli says: Word for word, that's what I was thinking.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


I was reading a book titled "The Philosophy of South Park" or something in Borders. Not very good, but one interesting point was the defense of anti-smoking advocates: "Yes, anti-smokers are being assholes, but smokers were assholes back when they were in power, and turnabout's fair play." (The philosopher authors use profanity often because they're trying to imitate their subject matter--the effect is stupid, because, unlike Parker and Stone, philosophers aren't funny [except Ayn Rand]).

Now smokers are out there trying to get smoking banned in bars and restaurants, bringing down the full weight of the state to disallow property owners their own choice as to the matter. So, if the turnabout is really fair, there'll be evidence that way back when smokers used the state to try and keep property owners from disallowing smoking in their establishments. No idea if that's the case, but I doubt it.

[22:04] [FanOfTheSitcom227]: i deleted all my porn

[22:07] Remy Boncouer:
Feds getting too close again?

[22:07] [FanOfTheSitcom227]:
no, just for self-growth

[22:07] Remy Boncouer:
Not literally.

[22:07] [FanOfTheSitcom227]:

Not a bad day all around. Blessed be the optimists--they're stupid in all the right ways.



I'm a barbri girl in a barbri world.
That's not appropriate, but it just came to me.


no. it's not.
I'll pretend it wasn't said.


You'll be passing that off as your own within the hour.

Monday, June 25, 2007


We have a fantastic lecturer for Torts. Some are mystified I actually enjoy Barbri courses, with their wooden, non-interactive presentation of doctrine. I'm mystified anyone could not love it. It ain't sarcasm--I really do hate class discussion. A lecturer with a full tone, a sense of humor, and a thorough understanding of the topic is how learning was meant to be transmitted. No student participation necessary. No speaking in class without state licensure.

Wailed on the old biceps and triceps for ninety minutes, then studied to the sweet strains of Interludes from Peter Grimes and the sweet taste of a triple cheeseburger. Evening capped with a few pints with Mr. Tamboli which of course ended in excited discussion of state of nature theory, the redistributive nature of the night watchman state, and justice.

JAY: Nice shirt.

SCOTT: Thanks. I changed a lot this weekend. I now wear floral shirts.

And a bunch of Supreme Court decisions came down that have got the hippies up in arms. I have no opinion.


Listening: Ella Fitzgerald sings the Rodgers and Hart Songbook. Ah, Ella, without you life would be a laughable mistake.


SCOTT: I found the food!

GEE: No! Don't feed her, she's fat!

But she looked so pathetic. Her eyes were all big and she was rubbing my leg and mewing.

GEE: Just take the food out of the bowl.

SCOTT: ...she's going to hate me.

What a wonderful day. We all rolled out of bed at ten, after Gee pounced on me a few times and took pictures of my bed hair--it needs a cut. Hunted down fresh bagels and coffee, had breakfast at Gee's and promptly feel back asleep, the wind blowing through the window.

Hugs all around, Gee left for a concert, and I, entranced by the weather, decided to walk forty blocks to Penn Station (the doorman didn't think I could do it. Ha!). I like walking. Retrieved Jess and headed for DeLancey, where Jer swung by and picked us both up. We pierced New Jersey, then got swamped in Delaware and were forced onto the back roads.

Didn't roll into DC until nine which was just enough time to get to the 9:30 Club to watch Kristianne make her guitar sing. Hugged her and Mark goodbye, and caught a cab home.


My knee feels funny.

Has it been telling jokes?

Sunday, June 24, 2007


Studying in Central Park in the sun is pretty damned close to heaven. Country bar with Jess, Gee's concert at NYU (perfectly executed, by the way), then wine with Cambra, Joey, and Meg until the wee hours, plus a conversation with a friendly bus driver on the way back, getting back to Gee's with the cat pawing helplessly and purring, thus forcing me to ransack the apartment looking for her food (I found it). All in all no better way to end the day than with the certain suspicion that you have much better friends than you deserve, and a constant wish to somehow deserve them.