The place where lost socks go...

Gentle Readers,

This is the proverbial it! Tis the moment you have all[*] been waiting for! Strike the drums and sound the trumpets... because the 1000^th post chronicling the Adventures of Anarchist Nomad is here!

Looking back at the entries from last week, I could not settle on a sole winner. Indeed, there were even unexpected similarities! Who would have thought that more than one person would choose "Andorra" as their pick of country?? Or that there would be more than one selection of "mongoose" ("mongeese"? "mongooses"??) for a noun??? Indeed, in the end, you are all winners and, as such, everyone who took the time to help me out is being awarded the promised points! And, even more exciting, now your story can be told[**]:

( acelightning )

( bammba_m )

( bunnypip )

( cheshcat )

( dcseain )

( emrldgirrl )

( faerierhona )

( llamachameleon )

( lunarbitch )

( pogodragon )

( sanjibabes )

( sciffy_circo )

( tawneypup )

( theentwife )

( thehalibutkid )

( winewiskeywomen )

( And now it can be told! Here it is -- THE ORIGINAL STORY!!![***] )

So there it is! Choose the story you like best -- there are plenty of choices! Some of you seem to have guessed that I was setting up for a Mad Libs entry, others may not even know what Mad Libs are! Either way, I hope that y'all had as much fun reading these as I did![****]

Tomorrow we return you to your regularly scheduled Anarchist Nomad LiveJournal, dear friends!

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[*] For some definition of "all".

[**] Arranged in alphabetical order, by LJ name, with the original story template at the very bottom.

[***] Kind of boring, actually. Especially when compared with some of what you lot have come up with!

[****] And without needing to do any of the work, either!

Greetings, Gentle Readers!

As many of you know, I have been nicknamed the Knave of (K)Numbers! Indeed, it is even my honour to serve as such in the unofficial [and purely ephemeral] Tarot deck of the Super Sekrit Pagan Gathering^TM! Thus, it will likely come as a surprise to none to learn that I have noticed that this is my 999^th LiveJournal entry!

In and of itself, that is not terrible significant. However, it is a harbinger of doom my one thousandth post. And that, Dear Friends, is not something that I could let pass without pomp and circumstance! Nosiree, Bob!

Long-time readers of this journal may recall the special edition that was released for the five hundredth issue of Anarchist Nomad! Copies of this rare collectors' edition can be found here! That epic tome revealed the previously untold secret origin of the Anarchist Nomad!

For issue #1000, something even more amazing, more spectacular, more sensational[*] was required! So uncanny and incredible, in fact, that I could not do it alone! No, Gentle Readers, your assistance is required to bring forth the most mighty and invincible issue of Anarchist Nomad ever!

To that end, I ask you to leave a comment in this, the penultimate chapter in our countdown, providing me with some choice words. Twenty-five of them, in fact! But not just any words, mind you! Each word needs to be a very special type. So special that I have prepared a guide to help you in helping me!

( The Guide! (Da da DA dum!) )

Please leave your words as a comment -- the best answers shall both feature in the milestone 1000^th entry and win one hundred points! Good luck!

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[*] And more web of.

The countdown is over! Welcome to the 500^th issue (or entry) of Anarchist Nomad. A true collector's item, indeed!

And, as is obligatory for such anniversary issues, a retelling of the origin story is not inappropriate. Prepare yourself for a Strange Tale of Action and Suspense to Astonish:

Thirty-two years ago today, the newborn Anarchist Nomad landed in New York in a spaceship, having been sent from his dying homeworld by his parents. A kindly couple found the infant and decided to adopt him, only to be gunned down moments later -- before Anarchist Nomad's very eyes -- by a crazed gunman who wanted their bagel. Raised by his elderly aunt and uncle, Anarchist Nomad was your typical high school outcast nerd... until the day he was bitten by a spider that had been irradiated by the Super-Kamiokande electron LINAC. That spider gave Anarchist Nomad powers and abilities beyond the ken of mere mortals... and also went on a rampage and killed his poor uncle, thus teaching Anarchist Nomad the difficult lesson: With great power comes great angst and drama! Anarchist Nomad vowed to use his powers for the betterment of humanity, and began by saving some stupid kid who had driven onto the test site for a gamma bomb detonation. Tragically, although he managed to get said moronic kid to safety, Anarchist Nomad was unable to save himself before the blast went off. The detonation of the gamma bomb lodged shrapnel near Anarchist Nomad's heart, which made him angry. And you really wouldn't like him when he is angry. To save his damaged heart, Anarchist Nomad designed a chestplate that would hold the shrapnel in magnetic stasis. However, this terrible turn of events caused him to develop a drinking problem. One night -- after a particularly heavy drinking binge -- he crashed the Nomad-mobile... resulting in nerve damage to his hands. Knowing that he would never again be able to play the violin, he went on a pilgrimage to the Massachusetts Berkshire mountains, where he was welcomed by the mystical Ancient One, a strange purple fellow who gave him a green ring that would enable him to become the protector of Earth against threats arcane and alien.

At last -- the story can be told!

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In other news, besides reaching the end of the countdown to my 500^th LiveJournal entry, I should also say that I am 11688 days old today. So Happy Birthday to me!

Last night, ringing bells for services at St. Giles, I got to join in while ringing Plain Hunt -- for the first time! Both DR and JP were away, so SE was leading the ringing. He assigned me to cover on the tenor while the rest rang Plain Hunt on seven bells. I pointed out that I had not yet done this... and he said that I should try anyway. He took the #7 with the logic that, if I screwed it up, we could easily switch to Plain Hunt on six bells, so that I would only have to follow him.

Since I was only covering, I did not actually switch place with the other bells. I always rang last in each change. However, the bell that I was following would continuously change, which I needed to be aware of. Also, the tenor at St. Giles weighs thirteen hundredweight (which is 1456 pounds for those who don't count in hundredweights, quarters, and stone). So establishing adequate control over the bell is somewhat tricky. Besides being the heaviest bell in the tower, it is also the oldest -- dating back to 1637!

As for the ringing itself, it went quite well! Although I sometimes got my timing a tad off, I never lost track of who I should be following. The "off" moments that did happen were caused by me needing more practice in handling such a gosh-darn heavy bell. Having done this, I hope to do it more in upcoming practices... eventually leading to joining in on the method itself, rather than just covering. Hopefully in the not-too-distant future!

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On a totally unrelated topic, since I have been asked privately a couple of times: Does anyone have any clue what it is that I have been counting down for the past couple of weeks? Just curious if anybody figured it out... (If you asked and I told you, you aren't allowed to answer!)

It has been a mellow Sunday at Skullcrusher Mountain so far. I sit in the living room writing this entry while looking out the open window at Spring and at the hum of life on the Banbury Road. Here's a snapshot of what the view looks like as the cars, bicycles, buses, and people go by:

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I have been somewhat sparse in my journaling this week, so this entry is meant as a summary of some of the thoughts and things that I have been up to of late...

( Monday )

( Tuesday )

( Wednesday )

( Thursday )

( Friday )

( Saturday )

( Sunday )

And that's the week in review! Stick a fork in me -- I'm done!

Spent part of the afternoon in Summertown today with cheshcat. Summertown is a nice little area, with shops and a library and a pub and whatnot, about five to ten minutes up the Banbury Road from where we live (in the opposite direction from the city centre).

When I moved here last March, I was surprised to see that there are a fairly large number of sakura (or Japanese cherry blossom trees) in Oxford. The weather has been very warm and Springlike this week, so the sakura are in bloom. They are, as always, quite beautiful.

I think that there is no time that I miss Japan more than in the early Spring. In particular, my heartstrings are pulled by those first two weeks in April, when there are hundreds or thousands of sakura blooming, with festivals everywhere marking the occasion. Although the trees only bloom for about a week, I lived in a mountainous region of Japan. So the trees would first bloom down in Toyama, which borders the Sea of Japan. Over the next two weeks, the wave of blooming sakura would travel upwards, through the cooler regions at higher altitude. It would pass through Kamioka -- where I worked -- and then into the nearby city of Takayama.

I lived in Japan half-time from December 1998 through June 2003. I have not been back to Japan since the International Cosmic Ray Conference in August 2003. That is over three and a half years now... and I do miss it very much.

Meanwhile, I have the few dozen sakura here in Oxford to remind me of that Springtime beauty.

...is more work.

Though I shy away from absolutes, I suspect that I can safely claim that every physicist knows this.

Today has been a remarkably exciting, successful, and productive day at work[*]. Thus, we decided around noon that I will be going back to Italy on Wednesday. SH and I will make a three day trip to Gran Sasso for the purpose of implementing at CRESST the advances that have been made to our cryo-electronics today.

Once upon a time, I would have considered five days notice to be unusually short for planning an international trip. However, after my Paris trip last month, for which I received one day of notice, this is positively an eternity of pre-planning time. Heck, even one day of notice is a good thing -- a few months ago RM was told in the morning that he had to fly to Italy that afternoon. Definitely a world a difference from working for Fermilab, where international travel has to be planned out and filed two months in advance.

Anyway, there's been lots going on this week, which is why I have not had time to write about any of it. Will try to update over the weekend. Meanwhile, I wish I could talk more about the advances of the day at work, but that falls into the "not fit for public domain" category that I mentioned a few days ago. Since only three people expressed interest in being included on a hypothetical LJ filter about such details of my research, I think I will resolve the question of trusting LJ security by not making a filter and simply sending relevant info by private e-mail to the interested folks.

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[*] So much so that I've been running around on an adrenaline rush all day!

...well, that's another story. Nevermind.

Anyway, I have mentioned herein that I recently finished reading Shakespeare's King Richard III, which I had begun after cheshcat and I went to see it performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company in January. Good play.

For those of you who are not familiar with the play, here is a brief plot synopsis. Skip to the next paragraph if you want to avoid 415 year old spoilers: Richard murders his brother Clarence. King Edward IV dies. Richard murders Lord Rivers (the Queen's brother), Lord Grey (the Queen's son), and Sir Thomas Vaughan. Richard murders Lord Hastings. Richard becomes King. Richard murders the young Edward, Prince of Wales, and his younger brother Richard, Duke of York. Richard murders his former henchman Buckingham. Richard fights Richmond at Bosworth Field. He loses, dies, and Richmond becomes King Henry VII.

This afternoon, I was doing an enormous amount of housework, getting things in shape for cheshcat's return. After all, Skullcrusher Mountain must be kept neat and tidy! While doing this, I had my MP3 player jacked into the stereo and playing in shuffle mode. Eventually, as I was working, the song The Meek Shall Inherit, from Little Shop of Horrors, began to play. Good song. Good play.

For those of you who are not familiar with the song, here is a brief plot synopsis. Seymour is being offered various and sundry contracts to go on TV and on lecturing tours with his new breed of flytrap, known as Audrey II. Knowing that Audrey II eats blood, Seymour has moral qualms about whether to pursue these lucrative offers. Midway through the song, the lyrics that caught my attention go:

I take these offers,
That means more killing.
Who knew success would come
With messy nasty strings.
I sign these contracts,
That means I'm willing
To keep on doing
Bloody, awful, evil things.

Listening to these lyrics, I had a brilliant flash of inspiration! How about....... an adaption of Richard III that involves a total eclipse of the sun. When the light comes back, this weird plant is just sitting there... in the Duke of Gloucester's bedchamber. Unsuspecting jerk that he is, Richard gets sweet-talked into feeding the plant blood. Eventually, the plant works its terrible will, convincing Richard to feed Clarence, Hastings, Edward, Buckingham, and all the others to it!

Sheer genius! Only two questions remain:

#1) Should this work be called Little Shop of Richard or Richard's Shop of Horrors? I tend to favour the latter.

#2) Should it be performed as a musical? Or in iambic pentameter? Or some strange hybrid mixture of both?

Flew back to the land of the fording oxen last night. Of course, it's been nearly a year since I moved here and I've yet to see a single ox in Oxford. Ah, well -- we all have our crosses to ox bear.

Anyway, this is a long and rambling entry, so I'll be kind and break it up into pieces which can be put behind cuts:

( Passport )

( Review of Richard III )

( Moon )

( Cats and Bats )

( Physics )

( Bells )

And I think that is all the news that is fit to print today.

To carry out his Italian mission, our hero (that's Iron Matt: Agent of the Bad Thing, for those of you who don't remember) has been given a loaded semi-automatic.

Semi-automatic car, that is!

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So I've driven in eight countries (USA, Canada, Japan, Argentina, UK, Italy, Ireland, France). I am comfortable driving on the left or right side of the road, and I am comfortable driving a standard or automatic transmission. And when you're driving a standard, the side of the road matters -- you have to switch which hand is controlling the gear shift! I'm even [mostly] comfortable driving on the left in countries where the wipers and turn signals are in the same position as they are in the USA (i.e., England) and in countries where they are reversed (i.e., Japan).

But until this week, I had never driven a semi-automatic transmission vehicle.

For those of you who, like me until a week ago, have never driven such a car, allow me to describe it: In a semi-automatic, there is no clutch to press and the gear shift does not set actual positions. You just push it up to shift up a gear and down for the reverse. The car won't let you stall out -- when you begin to slow down, it will automatically downshift for you if you don't do it yourself. No corresponding upshift happens as you accelerate, though. Heck, the dashboard display even tells you when the car thinks you should be shifting a gear, though I quickly learned that it is fickle and not to be trusted. I've driven a standard long enough that I can figure out when to shift on my own -- thank you very much -- with no help from the car's brain.

In principle, this should be the best of both worlds. People who prefer a standard tend to say that they like the control it gives them. People who prefer an automatic tend to say that it is easier to drive. This car -- a four person "Smart" car -- gives me most of the control of a standard with most of the ease of an automatic. It's weird -- largely because it is unfamiliar -- but it is also pretty cool!