Questions/Answers/Advice about home recording with Audacity?

Feel free to join the technical discussion in the comments of my It's Psych song post. Cheers!

There are few things so annoying as people who ask questions of you and immediately answer them for you.

What the HELL are those new parking machines on the streets of Chicago? Only quarters, dollar coins, and credit cards? What's wrong with dimes and nickels? Or dollar bills, for that matter? Can't these things make change? And what's wrong with individual meters? Was the perk of finding a meter with time on it from the previous car too much of a strain on the economy? (Hey, it's possible...) I suppose I could Google it, but I'm not going to....

True Brilliance is....

...A toaster, the lever of which will not get pushed all the way into toasting position unless the thing is plugged in.

We have one of those at home.

We don't have one of those where I am now.

First Christmas ad of the season! August FIRST this year!

Idea

Vehicles powered by human waste.

Can it be done?

How awesome would that be? We create our own fuel for our vehicles while finding a practical use for our own "waste."

And, for cryin' out loud, don't tell the suits!

Christ, there's that headline again: "World's Oldest Man Dies." STOP IT! The world's oldest people are always dying! It's not news!

The powers that be realized the error of their ways when they heard Jackson Browne's "The Pretender." So they did away with ice cream vendors.

My Wholly Bizarre and Incredible Excuse For Today

Usually, when I'm here, I dream about a variation of my aunt's house, and when I'm at my aunt's, I dream about a variation of here. So when I dreamt of here when I was here and then woke up here, I got confused and went back to sleep, expecting to wake up at my aunt's.

The Mandrake Memorial - s/t (a quick review by ~C.A.~)

A wonderfully odd mixture of pop and baroque sounds with just a slight dash of rock. Many of the songs feature a pseudo-harpsichord sound. Me, well, though my favorite song on here is the well-paced "Dark Lady," I think that, overall, the softer sounds on this album are the ones that work the best. The vocalist's voice seems especially well-suited to soft sounds. Some of the musical themes seem to reappear throughout the album, as though the whole album were a Beethoven-esque symphony. All said and done, though, this is a nice album. Some soft moments, some odd moments, some songs that run right into each other, and a proper psychedelic ending with voices and a sound effect. Good stuff.

What exactly is "passion fruit"? It's all over the friggin' supermarket now.

Dead Celebrity Round-Up

Bad time for celebrities these days. It only seems like my humble duty as a blogger to face it. When three of them depart on the same day that I see the largest real rainbow I've seen in a long, long time, it's rather difficult to ignore. And I know it's probably coincidence, but it still lingers in the mind like the smell of curry. (These are not designed to be jokes in poor taste. I'm just telling it like I perceive it. I turned 23 this past Friday.)

Ed McMahon: My generation might remember him as the Publisher's Clearing House guy. I'm only vaguely aware of who Johnny Carson was.

Sky Saxon: Does the Seeds' founder qualify as a celebrity? Well, although I've not had much success getting into the Seeds' brand of garage/psych, this is probably the one of the recent that affects me the most.

Farrah Fawcett: Never really known much about her. I may recall the occasional headline about her battle with cancer. I caught an episode or two of "Charlie's Angels" a couple nights ago; she does have a nice smile.....

Michael Jackson: All due respect to Michael Jackson (however much that may be), I was never a fan. Don't much care for the music; in my life, he's mainly been a tabloid and media favorite, not unlike Paris Hilton or the "Octomom." And you know how much I care about tabloid and media favorites......

Billy Mays: All I can say about Billy Mays is: Advertisements will seem quiet without him.

A Scene I'd Like to Enact

Two guys, one of which is me, at a bus stop. I'm in yellow; other guy's in cyan (or light blue, if you prefer).

Hey.

How ya doin'.

Eh, not too bad. I'd be a lot better if the coffee machine were fixed, but I should be able to have everything done on time.

Ah, you dig that whole "deadlines" thing, huh?

Hang on a sec....I'm not talking to you; I'm on the phone.

....Ah.

....Yeah, I'll CC the whole HR department. Shouldn't be a problem. .......Talk to you later. Bye. .....Haven't you learned to tell when someone's talking on the phone yet?!

Hang on a sec....I'm not talking to you; I'm talking to the voices in my head. .......Yeah, nevermind that stuff, why don't you just throttle him by the neck? Let him know you're not a &$@# robot! .....Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about! Catch you later. ........Anything else I can do for you?

Anyone else ever feel like they've pulled a muscle yawning? I've done it a few times now. It's really weird and unpleasant.

Honing My Nonexistent Stand-Up Routine

WARNING: This post contains language and imagery that some may find crude and perhaps even offensive. If such material upsets you, you may wish to scroll down to the next post. (Look for a change in color.) It's a lot easier than ignoring this warning, reading this post, getting upset and taking me to court in the hopes that the Patriot Act completely reversed the first amendment of the U.S. Constitution. You've been warned. I am not an ATM.

I heard an ad during the Cubs game for one of those cars that responds to spoken commands, except, for this one, you maintain a normal, casual speech pattern. Wouldn't that make it difficult to have a normal conversation with someone while in the car? Suppose you're on the speakerphone (no hand-held phones, please), and you tell someone at home to "pick up milk on the way home." Will the car think you're talking to it, automatically drive to a place with milk and then make its own way to your house? Or maybe it'll consider the dealership or the factory where it was assembled "home" and go there? If you tell the kids in the back to "be quiet," will the car again assume that you're talking to it, and shut itself down so it doesn't make any noise? How about if you tell someone to "go fuck yourself"? What kind of tricks might the car perform? Suppose you're frustrated about something and utter an exasperated "Fuck me!" Could the car accommodate this request? Suppose it's not willing. Can you be legally charged with attempted rape of an automobile?

I don't need a "Transformers"-type car that's actually a pseudo-living intelligent being. My sense of direction is great. If I wanted live transportation, I'd get a horse.

Keep it simple.

Message to David Letterman (and possibly others)

Please, please, on bended knees, with a cherry on top, or two cherries, or even a whole watermelon if you want, but please — let Sarah Palin fade into obscurity, I am begging you......

We'll be right back to "male enhancement" commercials right after this fraction of a movie on AMC.

What is the purpose of only partially slicing bagels? They do it at Panera, they do it at the grocery. Either slice the bagel or don't! Preferably don't, because once it's sliced, it can't be un-sliced. At least the bagel place on Touhy near Cicero Ave. knows enough to leave the bagels whole. (They got great chive cream cheese, too!)

You never hear about an "ugly cat" contest.

You ever try to randomly refer to "Audi"s, the cars, in casual conversation? It sounds like you're talking about "outies," like belly buttons. It's weird and confusing.

(edit: Recently saw this in an old "Family Guy" episode....)

On the New McDonald's Campaign

Terriblé.

(edit: I think they've realized it. I haven't seen those ads in a while now.)

(edit 2: Oops...maybe not. They've revived it. Damn.)

The "best" of something ain't necessarily good.

Can somebody please explain to me the logic of allowing the broadcast of certain programming on terrestrial radio but not on streaming online radio? First it was the Cubs, now it's Dr. Demento. And I suppose I should have expected MLB to be greedy like that, but the good doctor? Something is not right about this.

Transpormer

"Transformers" and "Transporter" apparently got popular at about the same time, and I'm always getting them mixed up.

Jason Statham getting medieval on some humongous robots? How 'bout it?

Dairy Queen's "lips" advertising icon needs to die.

A Comic Strip Without the Strip

"Hey, man, we heard you next door. You're pretty good at Guitar Hero, dude!"

(guy opens the door, and is revealed to be holding an actual electric guitar with strings, plugged into an amplifier) "'Guitar Hero'? What's that?"

I know....it sounds clichéd.....

There is nothing....no entity, no concept, no dessert, nothing....that can evoke quite the same feelings, the same psychological "high," as being at a Dead concert in person.

Maybe it helps that I was basically raised in such a way that I "frequented" these things at an early age, so I'm more accustomed to the atmosphere of peace, love, smoke and alcohol than other people may be.....but you get used to that, you know most of the songs, you have a
far
out
time. Sometimes they play a song I don't know so well....still sounds cool, though. I still don't know which song it was, but I have my eye on a website that has all the set lists so far on this Spring '09 tour, so I'll find out soon. Whatever it was, it was a great-sounding bit of fun, quick-paced rock and roll.

They picked out, among others, two of my favorite studio songs: "Weather Report Suite" and "Unbroken Chain", the latter of which our previously uninitiated companion agreed was "beautiful." I swear, I was on the verge of crying my eyes out, overcome by the sheer beauty and surreality of the experience, while hearing these songs, as well as the encore, "Brokedown Palace". Again, maybe I'm biased, having been raised on this music, but it truly is a wonderful experience, sharing and soaking up the groovy vibrations with thousands of kindred spirits.

It must be experienced in person. Watching a DVD recording or just listening to a bootleg on a computer or tape deck is NOT the same. Unless you can somehow get thousands to gather around a giant amplifier through which a concert recording is played and behave the same way as they do when the Dead are actually there. I don't think that's happened yet, though, so even that is somewhat doubtful.

A few selections they played that I can remember (neither the complete set list nor in order):

Dancing in the Street
Tennessee Jed
Mister Charlie
They Love Each Other
Truckin
Throwing Stones
Touch of Grey
Drums > Space > Come Together
Hell in a Bucket
I Know You Rider

And I finally figured out what the other song was through a bit of Googling: The Golden Road (to Unlimited Devotion)

(I know.....I'm not the biggest Deadhead ever. Still not totally evil, though.)

Peace and grooviness.

Freezer-burn.

What an odd concept.

Driving through hills is cool. At times, you can see the road on which you're traveling going up while you're going down. Psychedelic.

Suburbia.......

It seems the perfect opportunity to have a nice rest and feel the groovy spring weather..........and the #%♦&£@$ in this neighborhood all have to rev up their lawn mowers. And they're always spread out throughout the morning, too. They can't just all do it at once. I think we should have a special time set aside for everyone who cares how their lawn looks to all come out and use their mowers. Preferably on the other side of noon.


(edit, a short while later) And car alarms. Please put these things in the history books next to powdered wigs, typewriters, and telephone cords. They accomplish nothing. It's noise pollution. Nothing more. Name one person whose car alarm was the main reason for a happy ending. See? I couldn't do it, either. Car alarms are nothing more than an obstacle between reasonable people and blissful slumber.

Peace.

One last entry for tonight.......

Does anyone know who, or what, OnlineGuardian is, and who bestows upon them the power to "ban" websites? There's not much information that Google could find. I have a suspicion that it was created by an independent, severely disturbed individual or three.....I can find no connection to any other entities.

Please clue us blogospherians in.

Anyone else just get into states of mind like this where they have to find a place to just let the waters of catharsis rush out to sea?

Would anyone else dearly like to see the people grab control of the analog television waves that apparently are, or soon will be, vacated?

Why are they called "buildings"? Shouldn't they be called "builts"?

Where's that Phillipe Debarge CD I ordered a'ready?!? Why won't Steve respond to my e-mail? I don't have a photo like that! Honest! Anything you find online was put up by someone else!

Progress! (Part Two)

The old, manually operated paper-towel dispenser at work has been replaced by a sensor-activated paper-towel dispenser.

What has this invention accomplished? If they couldn't install an air drier, couldn't they have just put up one or two of those old-fashioned metal things where the janitor or whoever's around puts the stack of paper towels in and closes it, and then people can just pick the paper towels they desire right through the widened slot at the bottom? You'd probably have to refill those more often, but so what? Makes more sense than replacing a simple push-handle with (what's probably) an expensive thing that's likely to spend more time on the fritz than......well, than me trying to think of something funny to compare that to. To me, anyway.

C'est la Feline

Perhaps it was just some odd psychological fluke; perhaps he had some ancient Egyptian heritage of which he was unaware; all Richard knew was that he loved cats. Their appearances, their textures, their lack of odors, their mostly calm yet skeptical attitudes, and their relative independence — everything about them struck a euphonious chord in his mind. But although he occasionally had the opportunity to visit other people and their cats, he never had a cat that he could call his own...or maybe he could never be called any particular cat’s own. That, after all, is how cats seem to work, as it were.

At least, that’s the impression he had gotten. Of his two parents, one was allergic, and the other was simply stubborn, closed-minded, and not at all fond, or indeed tolerant, of anything feline. They had no problem with certain types of dogs, though. They had two pets of the canine persuasion, but, as amicable as they were, they were clearly not at all the same to Richard. Noisy, stinky creatures that sometimes have to go out in the mud and cold, pouring rain just to relieve themselves. Who needs this? Richard thought. Eventually, though, after spending enough time with the dogs...hey, they may have some cons, but they’re not totally despicable...Richard became mostly numb to his previous desires and carried on with his life as nearly any human would do.

Richard found himself pursuing reading and writing in college. He worked a few ordinary, menial jobs throughout his studies, and he seldom thought of the future. Of course, few could have foreseen the economic depression that lay not far from his graduation.

Despite being armed with a college degree, nobody seemed interested in his potential services. No employers in any fields that held his interest were hiring, and he wasn’t about to pursue a job he knew he wouldn’t enjoy. He held on to his old job at the dry-cleaners on Western for a while, but the income from that would not grant him independence. He was able to stay with an old classmate from one of his earlier poetry classes. Jimmy was a nice guy, but sometimes his wildly eclectic musical tastes would drive even the most radical hippie totally batty. The headphones may have been the one thing that preserved their relative friendliness.

Richard started to approach “totally batty” himself when he was informed that the dry-cleaners would be closing. Where would he go now? No one was hiring, and he clearly could not stay anywhere. Damn this world, he thought. The worlds my head creates in my dreams are so much better. I should just sleep all the time, so I can spend my time there instead of in this hell.

After much pleading and reasoning with his family, his aunt finally agreed to take him in. She was not so keen on the arrangement given the circumstances, but she was essentially kind-hearted, and she decided that a little bit of company would do her good; her husband had been killed in a freak accident on the Kennedy a number of years ago, and her only son had moved to Denver. So, Richard would remain on the dole and with his aunt. He would wander the city on weekday mornings and afternoons in search of work, and he would spend most of the rest of his time either asleep or vacantly nibbling on cheap food. In fact, as the days wore on, he would put less and less effort into his search, and sometimes he would simply stay home and let it all blow away in the wind. He had largely ceased to care about much of anything, even letting his hair and beard grow long and scraggly.

One day, Richard got up at around noon. He headed down to the kitchen and served himself a can of tuna and a glass of cool tap water. He ate quite intently, seldom noticing any of his surroundings. Not that there was much worth paying attention to, of course; the house was otherwise quiet and unoccupied for the time being, and nothing beyond the windows could bring him peace of mind. He ate and drank his fill, then walked back upstairs.

As he passed the mirror, he caught sight of his reflection. Just for a brief moment, an odd thought struck him as he gazed at his hairy body with its long whiskers and fairly simple mind. This quickly subsided, though. He didn’t care. As long as he was fed and could retreat into his own dreamworld, everything was fine.

He hopped onto the bed, curled up, and went back to sleep.

One of the things I miss about childhood: Baby wipes.

Dreams from Chicago

The lecture hall had been terminally conquered by severly disturbed, numerous, and narcissistic vandals. All over every wall, every step, every table side, there were repulsive, creepy photographs of strange people.....alien life forms, as far as I was concerned. How about the floor? Could there be a safe escape route down there somewhere? I was about halfway down when I was suddenly greeted by a bright, black, shiny diamond in a cave of coal. She was beautiful—an adorable little nose and the most perfect pair of eyes, eyes that screamed sanity and reason. We greeted each other with open paws, and she raised a paw and cast aside the scary apparitions.

Crowded tables. What the hell were all those kids doing at a meeting like this? I bid a not unkind farewell to my mother's coworker, hopped in the old red car that died two years ago, and plopped onto my bed, which was resplendent in its big blue blanket and adjacent to the old bookshelf which featured books with curiously colored spines.....books that, oddly enough, I don't remember either buying or inheriting.

Wait a minute.....I thought I was in Chicago. What am I doing back in my bed already? Is Spring Break over? I haven't even seen Lily, gone to Margie's Candies, or gotten the new Pretty Things "Phillipe Debarge" CD. Okay, I know time flies, but not at the speed of Zeppelin. I'm bloody well in Chicago, and I'm going to get that CD.

I could feel myself slipping on something. It felt like my bed.........well, it felt like a bed. Maybe I was slipping through a wormhole back to my hometown. Any moment now, I should see the morning light shining through the little window with the brown curtains around it.

Ah, much better. Morning light......the sound of someone showering.....that's more like it. Come to think of it, it sounds and looks like both of the showers are running. I thought there were only two of us. Is someone downstairs? I hear noises that suggest it. Is something happening here? Am I missing something?

No. Nothing is happening. I know this because the morning light is once again shining through the little window with the brown curtains around it. Only this time, it is real. Or at least as close to real as anything else I could perceive. The sounds of water had subsided, and now the only sound that remained was a faint thing that sounded like a cross between a child learning to speak and......and......someone.......singing. You know who that is......

I guess they're called "soap operas" because they make me want to take a shower.....

Feeling Better When I'm Feeling No Pain

Okay, so there is still some decent ice cream in town. What I think it is is a series of stores masquerading as independent entities but still obviously (by looking at the flavors) one company. Nevertheless, that "Birthday Cake" flavor really hit the spot for me yesterday afternoon. And the chocolate with brownie bits in it, whatever that one was called, was pretty good too. Not exactly my beloved Chocolate Fudge, but I doubt there will ever again be anything quite like that one.........

.......Anyway, I saw Gordon Lightfoot in concert last night. He had four guys accompany him on lead guitar, bass, percussion and keyboard. He seemed to be fairly comfortable, tossing in just a little bit of casual talk with the audience between songs. And, of course, the songs themselves were nice and varied, a mixture of old and new, soft and relatively upbeat, and a couple "back-to-nature" songs. On the whole, a fine show, with some quite beautiful sounds on some of the songs, and a few songs I hadn't heard in a looooooong time.......you know that feeling you get when you hear a song you haven't heard in years? Such a great feeling, isn't it?

Yeah, I gotta listen to those records that are on my shelf........

Progress! (Part One)

(Yeah, I retitled this one.......)

Simple billboards are being replaced by expensive electronic things that change the displayed image every few seconds so that, I'm guessing, the average American doesn't have enough time to process any given image.