11/14/17

among some of the vinyl lps my father gave me from his collection ten or so years ago is a three-disc recording of a leon russell concert. i've listened to 'leon live' probably a dozen times, maybe sometimes years have passed between listens. the other day, i took it out and sort of studied it. of the three discs, there are six "sides," which makes plenty of sense, though the definition and distribution of these "sides" stops making sense quickly. the first disc contains (not the right word... "is pressed with" also seems inaccurate) "side 1." when you flip it over, however, the label on the opposite side of the disc indicates "side 6." the next disc continues in this pattern, with "side 2" on one end and "side 5" on its opposite. the final disc, is labeled with "side 3" and "side 4"

i listened to the concert, flipping the records around, looking at them, trying to understand how record players (or maybe dual turntables) might have managed or played into the logic of this, but could think of nothing. it seems obviously much easier to turn a disc over to listen to the next side than to remove it from the table and put on a new vinyl, and have to change the disc on the table five times (disc with side one, disc with side two, disc with sides three and four, disc with side five, disc with side six) to get through the album in order. can anyone offer some insight on this? is it that, with a dual turntable, the transition would be smoother, like, starting the second side at the exact moment the first side has ended, to avoid dead air? but is that something people really cared about? i don't think, at home for instance, people would go through the process of trying to line up the end of one side with the beginning of another. perhaps this was a design for radio or club djs? was this a conventional way to print records? i have other double and triple lps from the same era that don't engage in this, but maybe i'm overlooking a practice or system that i don't understand by not being born at a certain time

on sunday nights they turn the heat off in my apartment. usually it stops running around eight p.m. and doesn't turn back on until eight or nine a.m. on monday. this has been going on for most of the time i've lived here, over a year, and i don't understand it, in a similar way to my not understanding the 'leon live' side distribution. in the approximately twelve hours that the heat is off, my apartment cools down significantly, and i typically prepare for this by sleeping in a sweatshirt, long underwear, sweatpants, two pairs of socks and a winter hat on sunday nights. i don't know anything about boilers or appliances. i've entertained that it has something to do with my super's religion, and he just doesn't come in to make sure the heat is running on sundays, but i'm not going to ask him. i've never asked him about the heat, except to call on a couple exceptionally cold monday mornings to press him to turn it on. in these instances, he always says "i just did, it will be working soon" and it always does

some foods that contain vinegar, or are fermented in a certain way contain a thing called "the 'mother.'" i am thinking of bragg apple cider vinegar and kombucha. are there other foods i don't know about that contain a "the 'mother?'" if there are, i want to eat them... i guess i mean drink them

i had trouble sleeping yesterday because of the heat being off, and i took a walk to try to wake myself up. it didn't work, and i moved around coney island and lamented not being closer to nature. there were lots of birds on the north side of the island, and trash. i don't know. i had a vision of myself walking through tall, wet grass in a morning, a kitten jumping around, gamboling at my feet, and there being wildflowers in the grass. i've had a similar vision of myself living in a small dark room in ireland. ultimately, i don't see myself leaving new york

i talked on the phone with katie three times yesterday. she's coming back to new york on sunday, and i think we're going to massachusetts for thanksgiving later next week

actually, on the first morning i met with my literary agent, i also couldn't sleep because the heat had been off and the wind chill was negative something. that was this past january. i haven't been writing, but i used to post a lot of things like this on facebook. i remember feeling like it was the ultimate creative environment, many of my friends posting their thoughts and jokes and writing in an enclosed community. i liked to think of it as "my curated audience"

i took a nap, with my winter hat over my eyes and dreamed of moving around in colors, or that's how it felt, as i remember it. simple bland pastels

my mother is a physical therapist. she works with retarded children, predominantly, and she has for forty years. sometimes i buy her books i would never read myself, like i've been thinking about buying her the new jeffrey eugenides story collection for chanukah, because i know she likes his other books, but i also don't want to encourage her to read stuff i'm not interested in, which feels selfish, but also honest. i don't know. think i might buy her 'can't and won't' (2014) by lydia davis too