americas cup at rock center

Well, great. It's bad enough keeping a blog, now I have to go and have a mobile blog.

But at any rate, I went to see the US Americas Cup yacht on display at Rockefeller Center today, the mast about the same height as the typical Christmas tree there. Cool craft, it screams two things: "I am super fast" and "Damn, I am totally uncomfortable."

People with misconceptions about sailing wonder how it could fit in with my dark and gloomy persona. But this is a sport that's been defined as "the fine art of getting wet and becoming ill while slowly going nowhere at great expense." Really, between the getting yelled at, and the getting totally soaked, cold, and miserable, and the threat of drowning if you mess up, it's about the most masochistic form of recreation there is.

brain age 2

My brain age is now 29. And holding. Still disappointing, mildly. If the DS understood when I said the word "blue" better, I'm sure I could knock a year or two off that.

the bloomsday device

I like the full spectrum of Onion humor, but the highbrow stuff, when it's on, is the best.

While I'm in no way a believer, I guess it's still okay to wish Joyceans everywhere a Happy Bloomsday.

brain age

For my birthday, my mom and my sister Jennifer got me a very flashy brand-new Nintendo DS Lite, which Amazon delivered two days ago.

And as a first game, I asked for a copy of Brain Age, consisting of simple puzzles and exercises, moderated by the Cheerful Disembodied Head of Doctor Kawashima. The premise is that your brain needs use to stay fit, or as Doctor Kawashima's head puts it, "a busy prefrontal cortex is a happy prefrontal cortex" (Doctor Kawashima's head bounces charmingly when it says things like this).

Anyway, you start the game with a simple diagnostic that gives you your brain age (as opposed to your actual, chronological age). It had been a long day, and I was a little tired, and I'd had a campari and soda before I fired it up. So perhaps I should've known better than to take the test.

But still, I did, and I can tell you that it's hard to imagine anything more gloomy than to be in one's mid thirties, and have the Disembodied Head of Dr. Kawashima inform you that your brain is 43 years old. Actually, being in your mid-thirties and having someone inform you that your body is 43 might be even worse. But then, I'm superficial.

Happily, I did some brain training, and took a fresh test yesterday afternoon, and was much more pleased to find my brain age is down to 34, below my chronological age. I'm still not satisfied; I'm convinced my brain is much younger than that. But still, I'm feeling much less suicidal now.

haiku review: cars

I can empathize
With monsters, fish, bugs, toys. But
Cold, empty cars? No.