Alex Ross’ “The Well-tempered Web“:

Classical-music culture on the Internet is expanding at a sometimes alarming pace. When I started my blog, I had links to seven or eight like-minded sites. Now I find myself part of a jabbering community of several hundred blogs, operated by critics, composers, conductors, pianists, double-bassists, oboists (I count five), artistic administrators, and noted mezzo-sopranos (Joyce DiDonato writes under the moniker Yankee Diva). After a first night at the Met, opera bloggers chime in with opinions both expert and eccentric, recalling the days when critics from a dozen dailies, whether Communist or Republican or Greek, lined up to extoll Caruso. Beyond the blogs are the Internet radio stations; streaming broadcasts from opera houses, orchestras, new-music ensembles; and Web sites of individual artists. There is a new awareness of what is happening musically in every part of the world. A listener in Tucson or Tokyo can virtually attend opening night at the Bayreuth Festival and listen the following day to a première by a young British composer at the BBC Proms.

I have been blogging heavily three years straight. That’s a pretty damn long for a hobby and it doesn’t seem to be stopped any time soon. Blogging is fun and keeping me active. I want to write anything that comes to mind at the time. My ideas come mostly when I drive long hours alone. I want to think about something to keep me awake and help pass the time. I have done this many times in the past. Even when I wasn’t licensed to drive yet, I would sit in the backseat, stare out the window, and create some stories in my head. I did it during classes as well. I didn’t understand what my teacher said so I zoned out and lived in my fantasy inside my head.

The only different now is that I could write it down to my imaginary readers. Sort of like what Charles Mingus did in Mingus Presents Mingus. Before he began a piece, recorded in a studio, he would asked his imaginary audience not to clap, not to use the restroom during the performance, not to get a drink (no cash register ringing) because his band would be interrupted by the noise. For a while I was interrupted by the noise. I also tried to cater my topics to stir up the noise. I felt like I had to live up to the noise. I constantly had to deal with the noise. I shouldn’t have allowed the noise to impact me. I shouldn’t have invited the noise in the first place. Not everything was noise though.

Now all I have to do is imagining that I have a big audience flocking to the site everyday to read my blog. I just put up whatever topic I feel like fluffing. I don’t know why I am doing it, but I am enjoying it. In the near future, I might have to let this go and focus my attention on my little family. That day isn’t too far away at all. Will see how much it will affect this little online world of mine.

The number is buried somewhere in my email’s inbox. I know it is in there somewhere because I have saved it. I was heading out the door but I kept thinking I should call. I went back to my office, fired back my Mac, and searched for the number again. I wrote it down on a little red sticky note, put in inside my wallet, headed home to make the call. Why shouldn’t I make the call? I have nothing to lose. What if it turns out to be good? Who knows what will happen. I got home, picked up the phone, starred at the paper and prepared a speech in my head: What am I going to say? What is the reason for calling? Why just out of the blue? I dialed all the digits except the last one. I was sweating. I was shaking. I hung up, took a deep breath, and then dialed again. One ring, two ring, three ring, four ring, five ring. “Hello.” I quickly replied, “Hi, is this…”

Samantha is no longer my little niece. She is growing up and scary fast. Not too long ago when I complimented her: “You look beautiful.” She would be blushed and said “Thank you.” Now I am giving her the same compliment she rolled her eyes and said. “That’s so boring. Everyone says that. Can you say something new?” Wow! I was in disbelieved. She has no interest in hanging out with me and her little brother Eric. I am wondering how long will it take for Eric to do the same? Right now, I am taking him everywhere with me whenever I spend the weekend at my sister’s house. All I have to say is “Eric want to go?” He just grabs his shoe and goes, doesn’t matter where I take him. As long we go. I still love him for that.

On my way from Lancaster back to Poughkeepsie, I stopped at McDonald’s to grab a quick bite. I was greeted by a blond cashier.

Cashier: May I help You?
Me: A chicken Caesar salad please.
Cashier: Would you like any dressing? Caesar?
Me: No, I want Cleopatra.
Cashier: What?
Me: Caesar’s fine. Thanks.

Another employee who prepped my food asked the cashier.

Employee: Does he wants croûtons?
Cashier: I didn’t know it comes with croûtons.
Employee: Are you serious?
Cashier: I never eat salad.
Employee: Are you from Alaska or something?
Cashier: No. I am not a rabbit.

I was speechless.

The overpriced jeweler Tiffany & Co. web site gets a complete makeover. The new layout uses web standards, but breaks on scalability. The homepage looks somewhat similar to Apple‘s.

In his lengthy article, which appeared in The Journal of Asian Studies, John C. Schafer explains what makes Trinh Cong Son a phenomenon (PDF):

[T]he freshness of his early love songs, the evocation of Buddhist themes, the rhetorical context of South Vietnam during the American war, the ethos or persona that Trịnh Công Sơn projected, Sơn’s discovery of the talented singer Khánh Ly, the emergence of the cassette tape recorder, and Trịnh Công Sơn’s ability to adapt after the war to a new political climate.

Highlight of the piece is where Thai Kim Lan, an old friend of TCS, discussed “Moi Ngay Toi Chon Mot Niem Vui” (“Each Day I Choose a Peace of Happiness”):

Despite its rather upbeat title, she felt that it revealed the songwriter as having to work awfully hard to be happy—it showed him trying to make do with little freedoms because larger ones were denied him.

Now it’s time to crack open Trinh Cong Son 1939-2001: Cuoc Doi, Am Nhac, Tho, Hoi Hoa & Suy Tuong, a special gift from a Visualgui.com’s reader. Thank you. I appreciate it.

Not sure when Google will take it down, but Thuy Linh’s sex tape has been passed all over the Internet. (View at your own risk.)

“Blue Magic” featuring Pharrell Williams

Besides the minimal design of Bags web site, I love the simple animation at the bottom.