Enter the Hamster
Apr 25, 2005
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
This is the Djungarian Hamster, a cute little seasonal dimorph indigenous to the steppes of Mongolia, Russia, and Western Siberia. Here at IUB, the animal unit used by the biologists has a mind globbigingly large hamster colony full of these creatures, and each 2nd semester the bio lab unit has unsuspecting undergrads explore their estrous cycle with micropipettes. What you say? That means probing female hamsters with pippettes that are about 2.5 times larger than they are?
This is the Djungarian Hamster, a cute little seasonal dimorph indigenous to the steppes of Mongolia, Russia, and Western Siberia. Here at IUB, the animal unit used by the biologists has a mind globbigingly large hamster colony full of these creatures, and each 2nd semester the bio lab unit has unsuspecting undergrads explore their estrous cycle with micropipettes. What you say? That means probing female hamsters with pippettes that are about 2.5 times larger than they are?
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Psyching oneself out to perform such a soul condemning, honeymoon-suite-in-hell-reserving, wake-up-screaming-in-puddle-of-cold-sweat-and-dubious-other-materials, routine hamster lab work is no easy task. Especially when one is afflicted with the usual hate-for-viral-genome forms of flu. Luckily, Nikita and I attempted to create a cure for the pestilence. A bubbling concoction of pepperoni (the chili not the meat used as an atery sealant), organic lemon juice, garlic, inorganic lemon juice, ginger, cloves, rooibos, earl grey, grappa, rum (organic solvents to dissolve the clove oil), and various other Ayurvedic and Undergradic necessities. Well, it didn't really cure anything, just pissed it off beyond belief. The virus took a shot vacation to reflect upon the unworldly abuse that it had just received and then came back to kick the ninny out of those responsible.
Whatever, the vacation was long enough for me to do the needful to the Djungarian dudettes and get a whiff of the ammonia thick atmosphere of the hamster colony. I don't know how many of you can experience that, but I recommend it - you see your life flash before your eyes and then transform into some sort of bubble of discontinous blubber, laugh, recite Polish poetry in a big hat and then implode reminding you that you're not dead yet, and just conscious enough to violate hamsters with pipettes...the nightmares...NIGHTMARES!!! You just can't get that any other way.
Psyching oneself out to perform such a soul condemning, honeymoon-suite-in-hell-reserving, wake-up-screaming-in-puddle-of-cold-sweat-and-dubious-other-materials, routine hamster lab work is no easy task. Especially when one is afflicted with the usual hate-for-viral-genome forms of flu. Luckily, Nikita and I attempted to create a cure for the pestilence. A bubbling concoction of pepperoni (the chili not the meat used as an atery sealant), organic lemon juice, garlic, inorganic lemon juice, ginger, cloves, rooibos, earl grey, grappa, rum (organic solvents to dissolve the clove oil), and various other Ayurvedic and Undergradic necessities. Well, it didn't really cure anything, just pissed it off beyond belief. The virus took a shot vacation to reflect upon the unworldly abuse that it had just received and then came back to kick the ninny out of those responsible.
Whatever, the vacation was long enough for me to do the needful to the Djungarian dudettes and get a whiff of the ammonia thick atmosphere of the hamster colony. I don't know how many of you can experience that, but I recommend it - you see your life flash before your eyes and then transform into some sort of bubble of discontinous blubber, laugh, recite Polish poetry in a big hat and then implode reminding you that you're not dead yet, and just conscious enough to violate hamsters with pipettes...the nightmares...NIGHTMARES!!! You just can't get that any other way.
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Come to think of it, this entire lab module is in its essence not so subtle psychological torture. Soon we'll have to wake every 2 hours during the day and night (equal oportunites for slumber) to drool into plastic tubes for hormone tests. Clearly ancient Chinese torture.
What's that?
Breaking lab rules again?
J.C. kicking back brewskis in class?
Sami drinking the stock solutions?
What's that?
Breaking lab rules again?
J.C. kicking back brewskis in class?
Sami drinking the stock solutions?
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
The other little torture we've been subject to - after drinking a litre of various liquids and depositing the nitrogen rich results into graduated cylinders - an ego crushing affair for some - a series of tests upon the contents of one's bladder. Science I suppose. The real losers in the end were the mice we experimented on that day, a bunch of blood tests, and they only got to bite 2 of us.
Oh well, when a lab module becomes the major part of a journal, there's reason to worry. So I'll stop here and try to start living again before my next post....
The other little torture we've been subject to - after drinking a litre of various liquids and depositing the nitrogen rich results into graduated cylinders - an ego crushing affair for some - a series of tests upon the contents of one's bladder. Science I suppose. The real losers in the end were the mice we experimented on that day, a bunch of blood tests, and they only got to bite 2 of us.
Oh well, when a lab module becomes the major part of a journal, there's reason to worry. So I'll stop here and try to start living again before my next post....
Apr 18, 2005
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Ultimate frisbee must have been something given to mankind by the very same architecturally adept aliens that built the pyramids alongside their liverflukes, the Mesoamerican cities along with syphillus, and Starbucks along with Mocca Grande. There are fewer better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon than pounding away barefoot on a grassy field, diving after that mysterious discy interplay of motion, and avoiding decapatation. Last time round, Nikhil Sasidharan and myself performed a blood sacrifice to the Great Plymalean Spirit. I think it works, even the experienced Ultimate players from Lafayette (exchange students, a strange breed, perpetually confused) were slightly daunted. Granted, one would be if a fellow Lafayettan had a circumvented triple bypass surgery with obsidian tools on the pitch. Ah well.
18 degrees is a rarish occurence and such measures are mandatory to ensure life is not ignored.
Today we're back to our friendly 8 degrees and rain. Since it's spring, I don't think I'll file for despair and dark poetry written in conjunction with the spider in my room. Perhaps, with the aid of my fountain pen of dark line generation of whitish surfaces, I can start my own coffee and donut franchise. There must be a way....must be.....
http://www.illwillpress.com/vault.html
parental advisory may be required, although it's my personal belief kids should be walking around with Foamy toys.
Ultimate frisbee must have been something given to mankind by the very same architecturally adept aliens that built the pyramids alongside their liverflukes, the Mesoamerican cities along with syphillus, and Starbucks along with Mocca Grande. There are fewer better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon than pounding away barefoot on a grassy field, diving after that mysterious discy interplay of motion, and avoiding decapatation. Last time round, Nikhil Sasidharan and myself performed a blood sacrifice to the Great Plymalean Spirit. I think it works, even the experienced Ultimate players from Lafayette (exchange students, a strange breed, perpetually confused) were slightly daunted. Granted, one would be if a fellow Lafayettan had a circumvented triple bypass surgery with obsidian tools on the pitch. Ah well.
18 degrees is a rarish occurence and such measures are mandatory to ensure life is not ignored.
Today we're back to our friendly 8 degrees and rain. Since it's spring, I don't think I'll file for despair and dark poetry written in conjunction with the spider in my room. Perhaps, with the aid of my fountain pen of dark line generation of whitish surfaces, I can start my own coffee and donut franchise. There must be a way....must be.....
http://www.illwillpress.com/vault.html
parental advisory may be required, although it's my personal belief kids should be walking around with Foamy toys.
Apr 17, 2005
Apr 16, 2005
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Being wired to EEGs can gratiate the old ego - at least it's proven that I am indeed one chilled out dude (or one with little brain activity). The weather has improved greatly here, enough to move the Buddhist club sessions to the campus green (no photos yet). A little aikido sparring with the Chinese leader really gets the compassion flowing. The attendance has dropped lately, but that's cool...if they want to be reborn as meercats it's a shame...but it's cool...metta. I need all the metta i can get.
This semester the person living next door has invested in a sub-woofer that is capable of spinal surgery and lighting candles all by itself. Bass is a good thing, rounding off the music of life. At first I thought it would be better than having to hear her conversations (she apparently has difficulty hearing herself and thus must try to rupture her vocal chords each time she needs to share pressing information about Shakira and the general situation with fake nails) through the walls, but guess what...she is able to speak over the spinal surgery box. Whopee. metta.
Anyway, next semester Nikita and I are outta here to the evilly named College III, the high tech college, and the quiet block - the silence...the stillness...or maybe not, apparently 6 people living there own guitars and there are rumors that 2 are electric. We'll see, and Nikita is sharpening swords in the meantime. His new hobby, hair styling, requires great prowess with slicing things. Stefan, the victim in the photos was here a good hour and a half under experimentation while the hair surgeon foretold great things in the way the keratin died.
The dazed dude from Zimbabwe (or Zim as he calls it) with the Twix bar was one of the more prominent figures here during this week, the African cultural week. It's not really an accent, just a particular way of talking that makes him almost impossible to understand sometimes and his poetry pretty good (and sometimes just leaves you with an uneasy feeling that he just ordered pizza). Complex, as he calls himself, has reminded me of the value of poetic expression, and in such vayne inspired the purchase of a fountain pen of great power that will aid me in world domination.
And to that end, I'm gone....
Being wired to EEGs can gratiate the old ego - at least it's proven that I am indeed one chilled out dude (or one with little brain activity). The weather has improved greatly here, enough to move the Buddhist club sessions to the campus green (no photos yet). A little aikido sparring with the Chinese leader really gets the compassion flowing. The attendance has dropped lately, but that's cool...if they want to be reborn as meercats it's a shame...but it's cool...metta. I need all the metta i can get.
This semester the person living next door has invested in a sub-woofer that is capable of spinal surgery and lighting candles all by itself. Bass is a good thing, rounding off the music of life. At first I thought it would be better than having to hear her conversations (she apparently has difficulty hearing herself and thus must try to rupture her vocal chords each time she needs to share pressing information about Shakira and the general situation with fake nails) through the walls, but guess what...she is able to speak over the spinal surgery box. Whopee. metta.
Anyway, next semester Nikita and I are outta here to the evilly named College III, the high tech college, and the quiet block - the silence...the stillness...or maybe not, apparently 6 people living there own guitars and there are rumors that 2 are electric. We'll see, and Nikita is sharpening swords in the meantime. His new hobby, hair styling, requires great prowess with slicing things. Stefan, the victim in the photos was here a good hour and a half under experimentation while the hair surgeon foretold great things in the way the keratin died.
The dazed dude from Zimbabwe (or Zim as he calls it) with the Twix bar was one of the more prominent figures here during this week, the African cultural week. It's not really an accent, just a particular way of talking that makes him almost impossible to understand sometimes and his poetry pretty good (and sometimes just leaves you with an uneasy feeling that he just ordered pizza). Complex, as he calls himself, has reminded me of the value of poetic expression, and in such vayne inspired the purchase of a fountain pen of great power that will aid me in world domination.
And to that end, I'm gone....
Apr 14, 2005
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Harmonics from Under the Stairs
Blogspot has landed! I'll be writing here from now on, so your inboxes won't suffer (and this has pics too).
Here are the pics from Berlin....
Blogspot has landed! I'll be writing here from now on, so your inboxes won't suffer (and this has pics too).
Here are the pics from Berlin....
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