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November 25th 2003
Art Alexakis @ BB King Blues Club & Grill October 29th 2003
The Strokes @ MSG November 18th 2003
The Darkness, Billy Talent @ Irving Plaza November 6th 2003
Le Tigre @ Irving Plaza October 23rd 2003
Jet @ Irving Plaza August 6th 2003
Mayor Mike's BBQ @ Gracie Mansion July 26th 2003
Dave Eggers @ Tonic (Sold-out) July 21st 2003
Dinner @ Water's Edge July 21st 2003
White Stripes (Postponed) July 10th 2003
Fountains of Wayne @ Irving plaza July 8th 2003
Pearl Jam @ MSG June 24th 2003
Delicatessen @ Cinema Classics (HiFi) | juicy fruit Thursday, 7/31/03 - 8:46 pm "What if no time has passed at all? One clue that there's something not quite real about sequential time the way you experience it is the various paradoxes of time supposedly passing and of a so-called present that's always unrolling into the future and creating more and more past behind it. As if the present were this car--nice car by the way--and the past is the road we've just gone over, and the future is the headlit road up ahead we haven't yet gotten to, and time is the car's foward movement, and the precise presnt is the car's front bumper cutting through the fog of the future, so that it's now and then a tiny bit later a whole different now, etc. Except if time is really passing, how fast does it go? At what rate does the present change? See? Meaning, if we use time to measure motion or rate--which we do, it's the only way you can--ninety-five miles per hour, seventy heartbeats a minute, etc.--how are you suppoesd to measure the rate at which time moves? One second per second? It makes no sense. You can't even talk about time flowing or moving without hitting up against paradox right away. So think for a second: What if there's really no movement at all? What if this is all unfolding in the one flash you call the present, this first, infinitely tiny split-second of impact when the speeding car's front bumper's just starting to touch the abutment, just before the bumper crumples and displaces the front end and you go violently foward and the steering column comes back at your chest as if shot out of something enormous? Meaning that what if in fact this now is infinite and never really passes in the way your mind is supposedly wired to understand pass, so that not only your whole life but every single humanly conceivable way to describe and account for that life has time to flash like a neon shaped into those connected cursive letters that businesses' signs and windows like so much to use through your mind all at once in the literally immeasurable instant betwen impact and death, just as you start forward to meet the wheel at a rate no belt ever made could restrain--THE END." David Foster Wallace, "Good Old Neon" 8 Comments. interesting
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