william from texas

The audience politely clapped, even though it was modern music. I could tell that the harpsichordist was just an amateur, but that didn’t stop me from appreciating the fine quality of the soprano duet. The young ladies clapped and smiled for themselves knowing they had done a good job, and the small audience applauded the show.
 
“They’re very good,” I told my partner.
 
“Yes, they were,” she said, herself a trained singer. I knew my feeling was correct.
 
We were in a small baroque room, the ceilings stretching up and ornamented with floral plaster casts painted blue like the sky. The rich brown hard wood folding chairs in the middle of the room, providing space for a crowd of no more than 20, of genteel company, faced the instruments at one side. My woman was by my side, I’d brought her out to celebrate her birthday. I spared no expense; I knew she would have an evening to remember. This private concert was just our second stop.
 
I had kidnapped her, so to speak, after her rehearsals were finished for the day. I carried a bag with me, but spoke no word of the evening to her, only that she should comply without question – to which she agreed – and that she need not come with anything. And I was from there polite company.
 
We first went on to the train. She asked many questions, and of course I did not answer them, though we were headed towards Amsterdam. The great city beckoned us from down the rails, and with the ringing of the conductor’s whistle we sped off across the country side. As it was still light we peered out the windows at the small dutch country towns that we passed. From one big city to one grand city, my dear became all the more excited through our trip.

In a world of input devices, move away from ‘perfect input’. If what goes into the computer/internet cloud is blurry/imperfect, while the device is operating as intended, what then?
 
The photo was taken on an eight year old digital camera. Could it be a modern equivalent of using glass-film cameras? Maybe in a few years..

Music for traverso and baroque violen, 2010.

I can’t say I wasn’t excited when the email came. I mean, it’d been two weeks since I sent off my application, cutting  the deadline close, and I knew my material could still have use a little more seasoning. As an extra course to my menu, that night I had made my special Indian curry. I didn’t know what the contest prize was when I entered, but I don’t react well to surprises after I’ve had my curry.

It was a challenge to myself. Like a movie with that guy who wins something after overcoming difficulties, not for anyone else but to prove it to himself. I was like that guy. I didn’t think the prize would make any difference, but I secretly hoped that it would be a large amount of cash.

I don’t kid myself, though. The contest was for a selected palette of the population, fresh faces awhirl with colorful politics and ideologies. I was one of the paints that made it onto the canvas. The contest was more about the participants than the audience, and that sort of contest doesn’t usually pay.

The contest prize? An all- expense paid trip for an up-coming long weekend! A mere two hours away from the North, the contest winner(s) would find themselves in this Southern city, which lays claim an interesting history and delicious local specialties. Winners would also enjoy a beautiful hotel, business class transportation and free participation in a contest winner’s workshop.

As the enormity of the event sank in on me — and believe me, the curry didn’t help — I realized that the email said I won!

The ‘royal couples’ stand on the balcony of the Oval Office:

Barack: (to Sarkozy) Hey Nick, come over here, I wanna show you some interesting photos from the Clinton years…
(they walk inside to the President’s desk)
Michelle Obama: (to Carla) You two are always so charming at those state dinners, I couldn’t wait to finally meet the both of you in private like this.
Carla nods and smiles, and begins to look through her purse for a cigarette.
Michelle: I’m always so envious of the fashion labels you wear!
Carla: (pauses, looks pale) Well, yeah.. thanks.
Michelle: (excitedly inspects at Carla’s dress) Isn’t that a Valentino! Who does your wardrobe??
Carla: (nervously) Well… (she finds a cigarette and puts it to her lips)
Michelle: Come on! (She winks at Carla and leans close to speak.) Powerful women should not have secrets between them!
Carla finds her lighter and holds it, slightly shaking, with both hands.
Michelle: (touching the fabric of Carla’s dress) Really, Carla, you must tell me. I would never forgive you for withholding from me..
Carla: You want to know? (tries to light the cigarette, but drops the lighter) Oh god.. (they both reach to the ground) You really want to know? (they squat. Michelle lights the cigarette) Him. (she nods towards Sarkozy.)
Michelle: Uhm… pardon?
Carla: Ya, him (looks down, slightly ashamed, inhales from the cigarette)
Michelle: (standing up and looking at the presidents.) But I don’t understand, he’s the preseident, why on earth would he do your wardrobe— (security walk by, Carla clutches Michelle and looks pleadingly. Michelle lowers her voice).
Sarkozy is standing and laughing, hands in pockets, beside Obama’s desk. His pants lift slightly. Michelle notices that Sarkozy’s baby-blue socks with white lace flowers are identical to Carla’s.
Michelle: Oh, I see..
Carla: (quietly) Yes, it’s true. Who knew? (she smokes) The president of France… wears women’s underpants.

La!
You mailed me at 7:22 this morning.. at the time I was asleep.
But now, 1:05 this afternoon, I am much more awake.
I just finished cleaning the kitchen and eating fruit and coffee with roommates.
Yesterday was epic:
Breakfast as normal. But Do told us that he invited some people over for lunch.
Ok, I think, it will be a small affair. Now, though, I know that his friends don’t have small affairs.
Lunch was a feast of rice, beans, stewed salted meat, breaded and fried bacon and bananas, ’spring salad’ (with oranges!), chocolate cake, ice cream, cashasa (like rum) and juices, coffee, several spliffs, and about 6 hours of half-Portuguese conversation. And that was lunch.
We were completely stuffed on everything, but then we had dinner plans with Fa (the short girl you met last week?) and her roommates (we bumped into them on the train at New Years).
So we had no choice but to go over for some pasta and more salad, tieramisu and new people (because Do hadn’t me them before).
And by about 1am, well, I guess we were all positively knackered.
So we came home and called it an early night!

“this thing that’s interesting to me,” i said. she looked at my screen:

“it’s just a bunch of nonsense.”

“actually, i used the alphabet to test a table in the code,”  i said, using my hands to model a structure in the air.  “and this is what came out.”

“so?” = she did not approve.

me: “i think it looks cool.”

she: “why?”

“umm.. i dunno, good question…”

“it’s nonsense.” it was final.

I just went on a trip! Spent last week with an old uni- and China-friend of mine. It was her first time in Europe, so we had to do the obligatories: Amsterdam (easy), Paris (of course), and Barcelona (something new).

To make the below video of the nearly 400 pics that I shot (which was not nearly enough – - I just didn’t want to look like a tourist the whole time), I used some Linux/FOSS tools. The learning curve was steep (as in, it is difficult to climb), but once you learn the methods you’ve got pretty good control. At any rate, this is my first video slideshow, and it gives me some good ideas for things to shoot in the future.

Paris and Barca in 399 pics from williamfromtexas on Vimeo.

July 17
Do: You have any idea when you’ll come for a visit? It’s been too long (and it’s only been a week)!
Re: Ya! Maybe next month. All my weekends are full this month, I can’t even sit down after work.

September 3
Me: Oh my gosh, where did August go? Wasn’t my birthday like a couple weeks ago?
Fa: Oops! I still feel bad I missed that party.. Did you get my postcard?? We’ll have to get together soon

November 9
So: I went camping this weekend! Did you meet the British when you were here? They’re friends from Re.
La: Aww. I wish I could go camping! Too busy, no time. So, are you coming to see me or what?! =)

January 28
Ti: Hey! I’m coming, I just bought my tickets!
Do: But.. I moved!