sock program v 0.2

What do you get when you have a geek with the flu, a vacation, a LISP compiler, and a universal toe-up sock pattern? You get a universal toe up sock pattern program. One big bug at the moment is that one can have an even (or odd) number of cast on stitches, then have an odd (or even) number of stitches for the short-rows. (It has to match the number you cast on, otherwise, you'll be facing the wrong way.) So in other words, I cast on 38 stitches (rounding up, since one can't have 37.5 stitches) and want to be at 16 by the time I start going back the other way on the short rows. Technically it should be 15, but that has you starting to work the wrapped stitches on a wrong-side row, when you started working them on a right side row. That shouldn't be hard to test for, once I get more caffeine. So here's the program:

; Knitty's universal (toe-up) sock pattern
;
; from: http://www.knitty.com/issuesummer06/PATTuniversalsock.html
;
; Assuming US needle sizes and measurements in inches. If using
; 2 circulars or other number of needles besides 4 dpns, adjust needle
; key parameter in the pattern function.
;
; foot_circumference to be measured at the ball of the foot
; 0.9 adjust for a looser or tighter sock.
;
; sock_leg is length of sock leg = from top of foot to top of desired sock
;
; length_of_foot = sole of foot, from tip of the toe to back of the heel
;
; Gauge is measured in stitches per inch.
;
;--------------------------------------------------------------------
(defun caston_adjust (dpns exact_caston)
(cond ((= 0 (mod exact_caston dpns))
exact_caston)
('caston_adjust (+ 1 exact_caston) dpns)))

(defun pattern (foot_circumference length_of_foot sock_leg gauge
&key (dpns 4))
(let* ((sock_circumference (* 0.9 foot_circumference))
(toe_foot (- length_of_foot 1.5))
(exact_caston (* gauge sock_circumference))
(adj_caston (caston_adjust exact_caston dpns))
(short_row_stitches (/ adj_caston 2.0))
(end_toeheel (* .4 short_row_stitches))
)
(format nil
"Using crochet cast on, CO ~D stitches.

Row 1 [WS]: P all sts.
*Row 2 [RS]: K to last st, W&T.
Row 3 [WS]: P to last st, W&T.
Row 4 [RS]: K to st before last wrapped st, W&T.
Row 5 [WS: P to st before last wrapped st, W&T.
Repeat rows 4 and 5 until ~D sts remain unwrapped between wrapped sts on either
side of the work. You will be ready to start a RS row.

When wrapping stitches at turning points of short rows which follow, note
that stitches will now have two wraps; these stitches will be referred to as
double-wrapped stitches. When working a double-wrapped stitch on a
subsequent row, pick up both wraps and work them together with the stitch
which has been wrapped.

Row 6 [RS]: K to first wrapped st, W&T
Row 7 [WS]: sl 1, p to first wrapped st, p wrapped st, W&T.
Row 8 [RS]: Sl 1, k to first double-wrapped st, W&T.
Row 9 [WS]: Sl 1, p to first double-wrapped st, W&T.

Repeat rows 8 and 9 until one double-wrapped stitch remains at each end of
work.

Row 10 [RS]: Sl 1, k to double-wrapped st, k double-wrapped st. Do not turn
work* (Work wraps of remaining doulbe-wrapped st together with st when working
first round of foot.)

Carefully remove crochet chain from CO edge of work and place the ~D resulting
live sts on two double-point needles, or one circular needle. There should
now be ~D sts on the needles.

Foot of sock will now be worked in the round.

Hint: when you begin to work in the round, you may want to pick up a st or
two in the space at either end of the newly picked-up sts to close up the
small gap that can form at this point. If you do this, remember to decrease
these sts when working the next round, so that you will once again have ~D
stitches.

Work in stockinette st or chosen stitch pattern, until work measures
~D inches from end of toe.

Next Round: Decide which side of your sock you wish to be the top of the foot,
and which side will form the sole. Work to the end of the stitches which form
the top of the foot; the heel will be worked back and forth over the stitches
that form the sole.

To form heel, work from * to * as for toe.

Resume working in the round over all sts. Work in stockinette st or
chosen stitch pattern until work measures ~D inches from top of foot. BO
all sts loosely in pattern."

short_row_stitches end_toeheel short_row_stitches adj_caston adj_caston
toe_foot sock_leg)
)
)

; (pattern 10.5 9 7 8)

Tonight in the news

Am I the only one appreciating the irony that the Society of Friends, a.k.a. Quakers, got put on a super-secret Pentagon list because they allegedly posed a threat to military installations? I suppose it's the same logic that brought us bombing for peace that would consider a bunch of pacifists a threat. I'd love to go to one of their meetings sometime, but didn't think they'd appreciate my video game habit.

And the Hoopy Frood (a.k.a. my main squeeze, partner in crime, and fiancé, who hasn't updated his blog in a few months) heard a big boom last night. Turns out it was this:




Fortunately nobody was killed, last I heard.

The pilgrimage

The other day a composer came. Such things aren't out of the ordinary--composers come and go, visiting, presenting their music, and meeting with students, much the same way instrumental faculty will come and do master classes. I went to one of his presentations about a piece--which actually was pretty good. But the comment was made--disparagingly--about those who compose using math or serialist techniques. Personally I don't see that one's method matters, so long as one makes good music. How a composer makes music is a rather intimate thing, and so long as it works for him/her, it's all good.

So my bathroom reading at the moment is Attali's Noise. Oddly enough I haven't read it, although a lot of other people I've read have. This quote is from the afterword by Susan McClary:

The tendency to deal with music by means of acoustics, mathematics, or mechanistic models preserves its mystery (accessible only to a trained priesthood), lends it higher prestige in a culture that values quantifiable knowledge over mere expression, and conceals the ideological basis of its conventions and repertories.

Sound familiar to the objection raised by the visiting composer? In an essay ("Swerve and the Flow") John Rahn refers to mathematics as a poetic medium for theorizing about music (where music theory is a model of musical experience.) At the time I objected to this, and argued it. Now I'm not so sure he isn't right. (He has this endearing habit of getting a person who disagrees to wind up agreeing with him.)

So if his experiences are true for him; mine are true for me; and we're both describing the same thing--the act of composing/doing/discussing music (the line between all three isn't always defined), then maybe with a diversity of method we can have a more complete picture of this thing we're discussing. Say I like to use metaphors of contemplation to describe composition. He likes to use metaphors involving math. Each of us is drawing upon our specific path, life experiences, and gifts to describe something that may not be describable in ordinary, non-poetic language. I think the theoretical realm is better for a wide variety of approaches. Is my way accessible? Is John Rahn's way accessible? That would all depend upon the listener. I think it's better to wonder about where the two might overlap, if they're different. (I'm not convinced they are past any surface differences.)

The rest of her quote:

This tendency permits music to claim to be the result of not human endeavor but of rules existing independent of humankind. Depending on the conditions surrounding the production of such a theory, these rules may be ascribed to the physical-acoustical universe or may be cited as evidence for a metaphysical realm more real than he imperfect material, social world we inhabit.

There isn't a metaphysical realm? Gee, I didn't get the memo. You know, I don't think I want to live in a world where there's no mystery, nothing beyond human blundering, and where everything that is can be objectively known, even though in the first part of the quote, she was arguing against objectifying music in this manner. Then in the second half, she pooh-poohs any sense of mystery or wonder we may have, insisting our world is imperfect (agreed), material, and social. I can't picture a worse picture of despair, to only have a world like hers.

Music may be arcane, and so may be our methods for discussing it. But if everything were easy, would it be worthwhile to study it? What good is knowledge without wisdom? Had John Rahn been able to give me the exact answer to my objection, would the statement in his article have had as much meaning as it does for me now?

I think composers and contemplatives (and maybe mathematicians) point to something else. In a quote about a prelate's discussion of why the apparition at San Damiano probably wasn't authentic, Zinmdars-Swarts (in Encountering Mary) writes, "The true Christian mystic, he held, leads a normal (although rare) religious life, opening a new way that everyone may follow." I think the quote applies to composers equally--we lead a normal musical life, but open a new way that anyone can follow. If they're willing to listen.

A pew-sitter's guide to homilies (or sermons, if that's your thing.)

Since I've got some clergy reading my blog, I thought I'd offer a few pointers, since I've heard a lot of homilies in my time.

1.) The Golden Rule still holds--don't rip on other religions, even though your congregation may agree with you. If you're going to make a point about some other denomination, reverse their name for your denomination's. Would you want them saying that about your faith?

2.) If a group is disadvantaged--poor, abused, etc--try not to refer to them as weak. I know it means you're trying to be nice and compassionate--which is appreciated--but it can't not come off as patronizing.

3.) Don't preach to the choir. Odds are if someone's there on a Sunday morning, they agree with you about your denomination's big bugaboos. (I have a rule of not bringing up the "a" word on my blog, but it holds here.) If the "a" word is brought up by one priest, I don't listen, because he sticks it in everywhere he can. If another brings it up, I will, because he rarely talks about it.

4.) Humor is a double-edged sword. Either it can wake people up, or it can make your point frivolous. Same with pop culture references.

5.) Battlestar Galactica is an exception to #4. Especially if you debate the theology of the colonials versus the cylons. With documentation from the early Church fathers. We need more BSG in the Church.

6.) Guys, don't talk about the joys of motherhood. Women, don't talk about the joys of fatherhood.

7.) The best homilies--like the best lectures--are a story. People like to learn something, but they also want to hear a story. The fact that storytelling is an important way culture, philosophy, and religion is transmitted in so many cultures isn't an accident.

8.) Doctor Who and Star Trek are also exceptions to #4. Bonus points for referencing Babylon 5.

Rite of passage

Last weekend I got a squash that needed to be cooked, so I made this. I have to admit it came out well and makes enough to feed a small army. Now I don't drink often. I'm not against it, but when you have parents who're alcoholics, the fun is kind of out of it. That having been said in a sauce like the pasta recipe above, there's no way around it, since a lot of the flavor is coming from it.

Buying alcohol is generally a risky procedure for me. At best, I have to deal with the embarrassment of my legal ID being questioned as a fake (I don't look my 31 years.) At worst, my ID is questioned, and I'm thrown out. (Never try to buy beer for chili with a passport.) Rarely am I buying alcohol for drinking--it's generally going into something, but one shouldn't cook with that which one isn't willing to drink.

So I approached the counter at Trader Joe's with my $3 Chardonnay, a bag of tortellini, and the penne for tonight. The clerk rang me up, handed me the receipt, and I stood there. He asked me if there were something else I needed. I came out of my trance, thanked him, and went home. This would seem unremarkable, except for the fact that it's the first time I haven't been "carded" for alcohol in the ten years since I've been able to purchase it legally.

The first few times I got carded, it was cool--I was suddenly old enough to buy my own alcohol, and I got the shiny blue ID to prove it. (Under 21 ID's/licenses in my former home state are red.) Then once I got older--around 25--it got to be annoying. I'd be out with friends, their ID would never be checked, and the waitperson would come over and ask in hushed tones if he/she could see my ID. The conversation would awkwardly stop as I'd pull the card out.

While I don't miss the hassle, it's oddly wistful to not be carded. Although who knows what will happen the next time a recipe calls for wine.

By the fruit of their labors...

I often feel torn between worlds, as it were. For the academics, I'm too Catholic. For the Catholics, a lot of the time I'm too secular. One of the tactics I picked up from studying gender theory in literature is that some things need to be taken back, whether a thought, language, or an idea. One of these is the rosary.

A lot of Catholics my age think the rosary is something irrelevant, something that doesn't apply to them, and is old-fashioned. With as many groups that are reactionary towards their faith, I can't blame them, which is why I feel it needs to be more visible as a popular devotion. I make mission rosaries--ones given to anyone who wants one, and won't sell it (offer goes for anyone reading this, too. You need some, send me an email.) We need more "normal" Catholics taking back this part of their heritage--ones who don't hang on every word out of EWTN, ones who question, ones who doubt, ones who are obedient to the Church without blindness, but ones who--above all--are as much as a part of the Body of Christ as anyone else.

It's hard to find an online forum for rosary making that isn't taken over by rampant commercialism. If you don't use precious gems and sterling silver while charging four times your material cost, you don't matter, to most of them. They wouldn't consider making wire rosaries for missions, as I do, because it's "too much work" for "too little profit." Frankly, rosary making is like composing music--if you're in it for the money, you're in it for the wrong reasons. So I found the Rosary Army's website. Their podcasts were mundane, but nothing overly questionable. I do object to their militaristic language, but they seemed to be into what they do.

Then other things became apparent--for instance how in a recent thread that they were more concerned with Wal-Mart supporting a homosexual rights group than how the company exploited their workers. (A boycott was called because of a bunch of gays...I guess the fact that someone who can't eat, afford health insurance, or provide for a family while working at WalMart doesn't matter.) Other threads slammed a recent DFL candidate from Minnesota, because he's Muslim ("apostate Catholic"). How is that different than what JFK faced in the 1960's? I was told by one member--and supported by others--that I should try to convert my non-Catholic fiancé. He'd be a lousy Catholic, honestly.

And then, in another recent thread, someone called into question the mods' practice of subjecting any site linked to scrutiny by this website. If it doesn't get a "green," you can't link to it. Guess what? I'm a Benedictine oblate (currently unaffiliated). Because the OSB's site got a "red," I'd be unable to link to any site of theirs, or discuss it.

Problem is, groups like this have multimedia outlets, spots on EWTN, and a lot more capital than your average Catholic does. They become "good" Catholics, while the rest of us who dare to disagree are the "bad" ones. In reality, they pick and choose from the steam table as much as anyone else. I'm sure any of the RA people possibly reading this will make sure I'm banned from their site, and that they'll chalk any opposition up to "spiritual warfare."

Maybe the real reason why they're afraid to look at the OSB website is because of this passage in the Rule of St. Benedict:

We believe that the divine presence is everywhere
and that "the eyes of the Lord
are looking on the good and the evil in every place" (Prov. 15:3).
But we should believe this especially without any doubt
when we are assisting at the Work of God.
To that end let us be mindful always of the Prophet's words,
"Serve the Lord in fear" (Ps. 2:11)
and again "Sing praises wisely" (Ps. 46:8)
and "In the sight of the Angels I will sing praise to You" (Ps. 137:1).
Let us therefore consider how we ought to conduct ourselves
in sight of the Godhead and of His Angels,
and let us take part in the psalmody in such a way
that our mind may be in harmony with our voice.

Apologies for the tone. And if you need rosaries, send me email.

Scattered thoughts before bed

1.) I had a dream last night that I was reading an article written by my dissertation chair. I don't remember what it was about, but it was printed in a book of his essays (not the one that actually was published, a different book.) It was one of the most beautiful things I've read, heartbreakingly beautiful. As I was about to finish the book, my alarm woke me up.

2.) I'm feeling like a fish out of water. I'm too secular for a lot of Catholics, and I'm too Catholic for a lot of the academics. Case in point: I got a paper approved...for a conference that's over Easter. I want to decline, but I know my CV needs it. I know the EWTN crowds would say I'm no Catholic if I go to the conference...but the majority of the EWTNites aren't trying to build an academic career post-Regan. Easter is a big deal. It's a bigger deal than Christmas. And to be stuck in a conference during Holy Week? Bleh. Might as well be stuck in Ordinary Time. That's what purgatory is--a never-ending expanse of OT.

3.) Been thinking about pop culture. I don't necessarily believe that the only thing worthy of serious discussion is "art." However, I don't necessarily believe that all pop culture or all culture, for that matter, should be given equal consideration. It's like what Bruno Nettl wrote in his book, The Study of Ethnomusicology, just because a culture produces it, doesn't mean that it's worthy of preservation or study.

If anything, I think pop culture proves Adorno's point about consumer culture--especially with video games. So long as games are produced according to marketing with an eye to commercial viability, we aren't going to be seeing what the medium is capable of. Case in point? The game Defcon. It's brutal and beautiful aesthetically. It's by far one of the most emotional games I've ever played. It would also never be marketed, or even made, were it not done by an independent company. That's also not to say that art, even of the video game variety, can't be commercially viable. It can, but I think so long as it's enslaved by consumerism, it isn't going to be art.

4.) So what do I mean by "art"? **Heidegger alert** In a work of art, there's something that isn't used up. When I was an instrumental musician, I've played the hell out of Beethoven's third symphony. (Picking something everyone's probably heard.) It's a warhorse. But no matter how many times I've played it in the past, or however many times I've had it referenced in a class, there's something special about it. It's not used up, and it points to some larger ontology, something that can only be described poetically, and even then some of the experience of it is lost.

Hm. I think I got an idea for the lone seminar paper I still owe my chair. I've started that poor paper half a dozen times, so far. Maybe the seventh time is the charm, and it involves a 3-hour work: one of Morton Feldman's string quartets. (More here to jog my memory.)

Voting rant

Apologies in advance for the rant. I try to keep such things on my LJ, and I've had the flu.

I know very well what day today is, between the constant stream of slanderous attack ads and so-called "Catholic" voter's guides that are nothing more than justification for voting for one party over another. Nevermind the bishops who seem to think the only moral way for a Catholic to vote is straight-ticket Republican. Last I checked we had a secret ballot in this country, and that also applies to Catholics.

That, and with an initiative passing tonight, some of my funding for grad school could go the way of the dodo.

All Saints/All Souls

One of the elders then spoke and and asked me, "Who are these people, dressed in white robes, and where have they come from?" I answered him, "You can tell me, sir." Then he said, "These are the people who have been through the great trial; they have washed their robes white again in the blood of the Lamb (NJB, Revelations of St. John 7:13-14)

I have a love-hate relationship with the feasts of All Saints and All Souls. On the one hand, I love All Saints. Who wouldn't? We all need our superheroes, especially when we have the chance to become one, too. All Saints is all golden, after the green expanse of Ordinary Time, and while it's not quite Advent, it's not quite the same as the Ordinary Time that came before it, now pregnant with liminality.

All Souls I would rather live without, although I know it's intimately connected with All Saints. The past year I've had too many people close to me die, and while I feel somewhat happy that if anyone I know is a saint, they probably are, I also still feel the pain of their passing. Although both people had a message, one that was part of their vocations, while they were here.

The first person was the chaplain where I did my undergraduate degree. "Swanie," as he was called, is also the reason why I'm a practicing Catholic, and why I got interested in Benedictine monasticism. (We were in the process of becoming oblates together...another long story for another time.) From him I learned how to breathe and to be. "Am I here?" "Am I now?" We'd take long walks, sometimes never saying anything to each other. We didn't have to. "What one heart says to another in silence," as he wrote once.

While Swanie taught me how to be in a metaphorical desert, Lucky taught me how to leap in, like the tarot's Fool, with abandon, joy, and above all, love. Lucky was my first "real" composition teacher, and I can only imagine what his job was like my first semester of my Master's with a student who was distrustful, distant, scarred and scared. While Swanie's contemplative echoed the Mary who pondered all things in her heart, Lucky's was the one who says, "yes." The same joy in his Magnificat I find reflected in the Mourner's Kaddish, "May His great name be blessed forever and ever. Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One, Blessed is He, beyond any blessing and song."

The further I feel that I am from their lessons, the more I miss both of them. Yet I know in their absence, they're all the closer to me. As I pray for them, they pray for me. And even though their death hurts worse than anything, I can't help crying for joy that I knew both of them.