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READIN
READIN started out as a place for me
to keep track of what I am reading, and to learn (slowly, slowly)
how to design a web site.
There has been some mission drift
here and there, but in general that's still what it is. Some of
the main things I write about here are
reading books,
listening to (and playing) music, and
watching the movies. Also I write about the
work I do with my hands and with my head; and of course about bringing up Sylvia.
The site is a bit of a work in progress. New features will come on-line now and then; and you will occasionally get error messages in place of the blog, for the forseeable future. Cut me some slack, I'm just doing it for fun! And if you see an error message you think I should know about, please drop me a line. READIN source code is PHP and CSS, and available on request, in case you want to see how it works.
See my reading list for what I'm interested in this year.
READIN has been visited approximately 236,737 times since October, 2007.
Question about timeouts on select(): if anyone has ideas about this, please let me know in comments.
Obviously select() is not a real-time operation; if you pass in a 1-second timeout, you cannot assume that you will get to run again in one second, since the operating system is allotting time to all the processes on the machine: in an extremely busy environment, it could be several seconds before you get the processor back. But I'm wondering whether the timeout is 1 second of real time, or 1 second of execution time -- in the very busy environment where your process does not get another time slice for more than a second, would select() continue to wait on the files you passed in until it had waited for a second? Or would it return immediately?
(select() as it is used in this post should be read to mean "select() and poll()," since I'm assuming both API's behave the same in this regard. Who knows, maybe they don't! But that seems unlikely to me.)
1 leek, white and light green parts only, halved lengthwise, rinsed, and thinly sliced into half-moons
½ cup low-salt chicken broth
pinch of crumbled saffron threads
kosher salt
black pepper
¾ lb. monkfish fillet
chopped parsley for garnish
Heat oven to 400° F.
Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large cast iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add the sausage and brown on both sides. Add the potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Add the leeks, broth, saffron, pinch of salt, a couple of grinds of pepper. Bring to a boil.
Rinse the monkfish, pat dry, season with salt and pepper. Place on top of potatoes and drizzle with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Transfer pan to oven and bake until the fish is cooked through, about 15-20 minutes. If potatoes are not ready, take out fish and wrap in foil, until the rest is done. Serve with parsley on top.
The parsley (along with a little bit of oregano) was the first use our new herb garden has seen.
posted evening of May 8th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about Recipes
I have been following the discussion at The Edge of the American West about using fiction in history curricula with great interest. So it was on my mind this evening as I read Pamuk's essay "Mario Vargas Llosa and Third World Literature" (from Other Colors).
Is there such a thing as Third World literature? Is it possible to establish -- without falling prey to vulgarity or parochialism -- the fundamental virtues of the literatures of the countries that make up what we call the Third World? In its most nuanced articulation -- in Edward Said, for example -- the notion of a Third World literature serves to highlight the richness and the range of the literatures on the margins and their relation to non-Western identity and nationalism. But when someone like Fredric Jameson asserts that "Third World literatures serve as national allegories" he is simply expressing a polite indifference to the wealth and complexity of literatures from the marginalized world. Borges wrote his short stories and essays in the 1930s in Argentina -- a Third World country in the classic sense of the term -- but his place at the very center of literature is undisputed.
The essay follows a pattern I have noticed in Pamuk's literary essays: he lays out a great deal of history in a very small space, leaving it to the reader to fill in the elisions. The history here is that of Llosa's relationship with the Existentialists (specifically Sartre, de Beauvoir, and Camus) and his break with Marxism. Of all this I know nothing besides a very general notion of Llosa as the Peruvian writer who was a radical youth but became quite conservative in his adulthood. (All I have read by the man is The Real Life of Alejandro Mayta, and that when I was very young.)
But Pamuk sketches the story so well, he gives me a feeling of familiarity with the actors. He makes me wish very strongly to read Death in the Andes:
This novel takes place in the abandoned and disintegrating small towns of the remote Andes -- in empty valleys, mineral beds, mountain roads, and one field that is anything but deserted -- and follows an investigation into a series of disappearances that may be murders.
...
Though Death in the Andes skirts tired modernist hypotheses about the Third World, it is still not a postmodern novel in the manner of, say, Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow. ...[I]t would be wrong to dismiss it as a coarse statement about inscrutable cultures, for it is a playful and mostly witty realist text about everyday life in Peru: in short, a trustworthy history.
Which last bit I guess is what made me think about Dr. Rauchway's post linked above and the comments thereto.
One time I left my wallet in the back of a taxi; I was very upset, and hugely relieved when the person who found it called me up and arranged to give it back to me. Imagine if it had been a priceless violin!
So last night I was maintaining code for a program which loaded a helper program for handling data files. Before it executed the helper program it would check the sum of the binary, I think because certain instances of the helper needed special handling; if the sum was not on a list of recognized values, the program would log an error and exit. Unfortunately the helper program was not stable and was being recompiled frequently; every time this happened I needed to edit the list of recognized sums, which was hard-coded into the main program, and recompile the main program. I was embarrassed about such a stupid bit of code being in the program so I was editing, compiling, and distributing the main program without mentioning it to anybody. What a stressful dream that was!
(Sort of ties everything together in a way, that I woke up humming Bessie Smith's "Gimme Pigfoot", which was in Gertrude Sturdley's post this week and which I was working on a fiddle version of last night.)
So last week, Captain Sturdley posted this song that I just loved, "Deep Henderson" by the Savannah Syncopators (aka King Oliver and his Dixie Syncopators) -- this follows on her posting a few weeks ago, another jazz tune that I just loved, Mel Powell's "Blue Skies". And this week, she has some Bessie Smith tunes! Excellent.
[redacted: a bunch of fumbling around about whether I understand jazz or not. Unworthwhile.]
Janis lent me a CD of Jelly Roll Morton's music, which I'm loving. Today after listening to it for a while, I played this on my violin, which I think is supposed to be kind of a take on the music I was listening to:
So what do you think? I was really enjoying playing that piece and I think if I had some kind of accompaniment (and -- of course -- spent more time on polishing the performance and the arrangement) it could be really worthwhile music. But I'm not sure how I would find someone that was interested in playing like that. Or for that matter what the instrumentation should be.
Let me know what you think about the sound.
Update: Two songs that I think I could play and that would go really well with this, are "Gimme Pigfoot" by Bessie Smith and "They're Red Hot" by Robert Johnson. (Thinking about it, these two songs are very similar to one another -- but not exactly the same.)
posted evening of May 6th, 2008: 2 responses ➳ More posts about Songs
Sylvia and I get in the car, and Robyn Hitchcock is playing "Glass Hotel".
Sylvia: I have that guy's voice stuck in my head. Me: Me too! Sylvia: Because every time we go in your car, he's singing... about his wife and his dead wife and the rocking chair. I don't get that: if she's dead how could she be combing her hair?
...A little later "I Something You" starts playing.
Sylvia: How come he's saying "I haven't got a wife", if he had a wife and a dead wife? Me: Well the songs don't have to be about him, they could be stories he made up. Sylvia (laughing): "I something you", like he forgot what he was going to say!
posted evening of May 5th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about Sylvia
The Youth Orchestra of Essex County ended its spring term today with a concert at Daughters of Israel rest home, in West Orange. This was Sylvia's second semester playing with the orchestra and her fourth concert. It went very well, I thought -- the Overture Strings played "Ashokan Farewell" (which Sylvia and I are going to be performing together at the end of the month, when Gladney is holding a talent event at the Chinese Consulate) and Vivaldi's "Spring", and sounded very pretty. The Junior Symphony played a lovely piece which I thought was called "Slovenian Legend", but I'm not getting any hits for that. Maybe something else. And ECSO played the overture to "The Magic Flute", and sounded like professional musicians.
Sylvia sat by herself (I mean with other kids, separate from me) through the Junior and ECSO performances, and paid attention to the music. I kept an eye on her from the back of the room and felt good that she was into it.
One time I left my wallet in the back of a taxi; I was very upset, and hugely relieved when the person who found it called me up and arranged to give it back to me. Imagine if it had been a 
Unfortunately the helper program was not stable and was being recompiled frequently; every time this happened I needed to edit the list of recognized sums, which was hard-coded into the main program, and recompile the main program. I was embarrassed about such a stupid bit of code being in the program so I was editing, compiling, and distributing the main program without mentioning it to anybody. What a stressful dream that was!
