It has only been a day or two since I last wrote. My MRI is now scheduled for this coming Monday (15 May, 2K), and I have no idea what to expect, other than a lot of weird noises from the machine. I hope the gadolinium contrast agent doesn't disagree with me.
I will, I think, continue to post information about this as it comes in. In the meanwhile, here's a short page I sent to some folks with a blathery explanation.
Also in the meanwhile:
For those of you who missed our last episode, I'm afraid there won't be a recap, because there wasn't any last episode. Here's what happened:
A few days ago I was over at Dave McGuire's house in the evening, and Dave said something about his health not being what he'd like. Said he and friends used to go out walking in the evenings, and that he'd felt a lot better back then. Not wishing to lose a splendid opportunity that had just been handed to me on a platter, I suggested that this sounded really great, and that perhaps we should do a lightweight inaugural jaunt on the spot.
This met with general approval, and we decided to walk over to 312 Laurel Avenue, the original home of Skycache (which is now called Cidera and is currently headquartered elsehwere). Three-twelve is a common rendezvous point, partly because Cidera's engineering department is still there, partly because Chris works there, and for several other reasons besides, not the least of which is that it is close to where several of us live.
Accordingly we set out, in a slightly ragged array. We hadn't gone but a hundred feet or so when Dave said, rather loudly, "F**K! WHAT THE F**K IS THAT??!!"
I looked up at the beginning of this eruption, in time to observe one of the finest green fireballs it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. This object continued across at least 30 degrees of sky, finally breaking up into several smaller objects, which burned up. The trail was not pronounced, was of short duration, and was slightly yellowish.
Being in the right sort of mood, I immediately suggested that we call the group "The Green Fireball Chowder and Marching Society". Dave was not, at first, at all sure about the "Chowder" part, as he is extremely reluctant to eat things that come out of the water, but I assured him that venison chowder is entirely practicable, a "fact" I was making up out of whole cloth. (Hey, I've cooked enough that I can probably create the chowder nearly as easily as I made up the fact, so it isn't really an issue.)
We have continued to walk, tackling distances of about two miles both last night and tonight. This evening I suggested an embroidered patch, which would show a green fireball falling into a tureen of chowder with legs. (The tureen, not the soup.) We Shall See What We Shall See.
(Note added in proof, some days later: I was having dinner with the redoubtable James Maxwell Young, and he suggested that perhaps the fireball should be emerging from the chowder rather than falling into it. I think this has merit.)
My recent attempts to get back to red tenmoku continue. I put a fifth test into the kiln at Glen Echo Park a week or two back, and then got to thinking about the previous tests.
I looked at the three tiles carefully, and concluded that in fact the middle one (#III) was closer to the correct track than #IV was, and that my #V test was off base. I went back to HyperGlaze and wrote a new #IV. Fortunately, the test tile of that glaze got into the kiln only about three inches away from the tile of #V. (I've also split the naming, so that the older IV and V are now AIV and AV, and the new IV is BIV. Not that anyone is likely to give a hoot.)
This morning (20 May, 2000) I got to help empty the
kiln, and I got the tiles back. Here are the
results. First, III, AIV, and AV:
As you can see, they do get somewhat darker and perhaps even redder, but there is no hint of gloss or transparency. In fact, up close glaze AV is fairly chocolaty, but with smallish purplish crystals floating in it. Neither AIV nor AV is a bad glaze, and in fact I may well use them. (I've already put AIV on a teacup, and it worked quite well.) ...But it's clear that my reconsideration was accurate: this set of modifications is not leading in the direction I want.
I don't know how well you can see this (as usual, if you want a larger shot you can substitute "lg" for "med" in the filename), but it's abundantly clear that it is getting much closer. Still, it doesn't break quite as much on the edges as I might like, it's brown rather than red, and it runs like water. (I grit my teeth.)
What I can't show you in a picture is the texture. I handed the test tile to one of the Japanese students at Glen Echo Park, and she said it was like a woman's skin. (That's a direct quote.) It has a fine silkiness to it that I really like. Now, if I can just get that same feel in a glaze that doesn't run off the pieces onto the shelf, I'll be very pleased. (I've reformulated this one yet again, and I'll be making up a test batch of BV as soon as time permits.)
On other glaze fronts, I just acquired 15 grams of europium nitrate at a prominent online auction site. This at least doubles my europium holdings, which is a very joyous thing: so far, europium makes the best fluorescent glaze I've come up with.
As far as I'm aware, the MRI was nominal. My EEG is now scheduled for Monday, the 22nd of May. Best information I have is that even if something is going on, they have only about a 50% chance of catching it on a random EEG, unless it actually happens while I'm hooked up to the machine. Needless to say, if it's just that I'm converting from common migraine to classic migraine, there is very little chance that they'll see much of anything.
(Written on 23 May, 2000)
From time to time, a special opportunity arises. All too often, we manage to resist it, perhaps largely through excessive training in Propriety. Some of us, however, were missing when the Propriety was handed out; this makes us extremely annoying to some folks, but lends a certain flexibility in behavior that can be rather handy on occasion.
Ahem.
Yesterday I was presented with one of those shining little opportunities. I went for my EEG, and did my best to keep the techs from getting bored, while at the same time, trying to avoid annoying them. (Delicate dance. I was obliged to ask once or twice whether I was being a pain, but they assured me I was just fine. This despite the fact that I was doing things like making sound effects when they asked me to move my head to the left or the right.) The procedure itself was pleasant enough, except for the part where they made me hyperventilate until I thought I'd explode. The light show was excellent: no fewer than ten different repetition rates on the strobe light.
As usual, I produced almost as much alpha with my eyes open as I did with them shut -- this is no surprise to me, though it isn't something they get to see every day. (Most people's alpha drops precipitously if they open their eyes. No idea why mine's different.)
The wicked kick came when they told me that they would remove the gauze and the glop and the red greasepencil marks from my head at the end, and the bad little lightbulb over my cranium lit up. I then told them I was thinking I might not let them. "That'd be a first," said one. I don't think they believed me, because when the time came, the other one said, "Okay, now let me take all that glop off you," and I said, "Don'tcha dare touch it!" She then said, "You're kidding," and I said, "Not a bit of it."
She took it in stride, and I marched out the door to drive back to 312 Laurel Ave, the headquarters of Doug's Institute and a few other things. I already had a pretty good idea what I was going to do, and it settled out nicely during the drive.
I got several of the engineers outside the building, and I got Doug and Lisa. When I got Dave McGuire, he took out his digital camera. Here's the bit. Muah-ha-ha-ha.
My consult with the neurologist is not until a week from this Friday.
Meanwhile, I am left to confront the fact that the MRI showed cysts in both maxillary sinuses. I have written my doctor a note, which basically says,
Dear Dr. O------:
I seem to have a plover's egg up my nose on the left
side,
and a ball bearing on the right. Should I do anything
about this? (At the very least, the circumstance occasions
a certain intellectual distress. You know what I mean?)
Please advise, at your convenience.
Best wishes --
Jon Singer
It is a great pleasure to be able to write a note like that and be relatively sure that the doctor reading it will be amused by it. Granted, she probably won't catch the reference (I'm sure some of you will), but that's strictly secondary.
Pseudo-mailto: jon [at] bazilians [put it here] org
Last modified: Mon Jan 29 20:13:31 PST 2001