swirly-eyed in the oven over the soccer field
Last night I sleep-walked into the kitchen, turned on the oven and climbed in ‘til morning. It was hot and humid in the upstairs, fan blowing warm air that the lungs refused. Summer’s on and my bedroom’s containing more than its fair portion of it, contributing to today’s stupor. That and computer-eye syndrome.
Soccer has always fascinated me--the non-stop running motion of it, the footwork--but I’ve never followed it. However, the World Cup game between the US and Italy got me riled up and a little obsessed. The past two days at work I’ve been multi-taskingly keeping watch on all the games by liveblog (after GameCast glitched out on me and MatchCast wouldn’t load). Fiendish, I tell you. I may destroy my vision this way.
Meanwhile: corner, apnea, goal, rapid eye, yellow card, k-complex, elbow, patients, statistics.
I called my mom during a thick-traffic drive home last night and told her about my newfound soccer-fervor. Then I exposed my profound fascination with traffic flow. What began as a sort of confession escalated into a somewhat lengthy and impassioned monologue.
She suggested I seek a job studying traffic flow—because who could be as passionate as that about cars moving on the road. Brilliant woman. Why didn't I think of it before? Since before I could drive I've thought about the most efficient way to get cars moving when a light turns from red to green.
Some of the jams elude me. Why, for example, would there be a multi-block back-up of cars waiting to get into the Holland Tunnel, when once you get into the tunnel—where as many as three lanes have merged into one (on the right-hand side of the tunnel)—cars begin to move freely? (Not every time, but I’ve witnessed it.)
Why do the cars crawl over Staten Island from the Goethals Bridge only to exit 11 or 12? Sure, I see some cars exit off in the meantime but not enough to explain why suddenly I can increase my speed from 20 to 55 or 60 mph. Where did the cars go? And if suddenly they could disappear, why weren’t we going faster all along? Ghost cars? Planted by whom?
Like my mom said, I need a helicopter.
Meanwhile, I’ve found this web site to get me started toward my new career in the study of traffic flow theory. I’ll need to brush up on some mathematics. And buy new eyeballs. There is much to read today.
Soccer has always fascinated me--the non-stop running motion of it, the footwork--but I’ve never followed it. However, the World Cup game between the US and Italy got me riled up and a little obsessed. The past two days at work I’ve been multi-taskingly keeping watch on all the games by liveblog (after GameCast glitched out on me and MatchCast wouldn’t load). Fiendish, I tell you. I may destroy my vision this way.
Meanwhile: corner, apnea, goal, rapid eye, yellow card, k-complex, elbow, patients, statistics.
I called my mom during a thick-traffic drive home last night and told her about my newfound soccer-fervor. Then I exposed my profound fascination with traffic flow. What began as a sort of confession escalated into a somewhat lengthy and impassioned monologue.
She suggested I seek a job studying traffic flow—because who could be as passionate as that about cars moving on the road. Brilliant woman. Why didn't I think of it before? Since before I could drive I've thought about the most efficient way to get cars moving when a light turns from red to green.
Some of the jams elude me. Why, for example, would there be a multi-block back-up of cars waiting to get into the Holland Tunnel, when once you get into the tunnel—where as many as three lanes have merged into one (on the right-hand side of the tunnel)—cars begin to move freely? (Not every time, but I’ve witnessed it.)
Why do the cars crawl over Staten Island from the Goethals Bridge only to exit 11 or 12? Sure, I see some cars exit off in the meantime but not enough to explain why suddenly I can increase my speed from 20 to 55 or 60 mph. Where did the cars go? And if suddenly they could disappear, why weren’t we going faster all along? Ghost cars? Planted by whom?
Like my mom said, I need a helicopter.
Meanwhile, I’ve found this web site to get me started toward my new career in the study of traffic flow theory. I’ll need to brush up on some mathematics. And buy new eyeballs. There is much to read today.
4 Comments:
Wonderful. Sometimes your sheer aliveness is really quite compelling. Focus and flow are at the heart of sports psychology, apparently.
hey lookit here now - maybe you could contribute SIGNIFIGANT type of progress to traffic flow if this is the kind of stuff you is thinking about. Maybe genetic injections that make drivers flow in traffic better? aw hell, what do I know?
Thanks, Benjamin. I suppose I don't write when I'm not feeling enlivened by something big or small. (Or when I have it's dreadfully boring.) Have been all sorts of busy lately, with all sorts of messes to clean up. One by one with a washcloth. It's nice to see your face here.
jinbon h--velcome. i've been thinking some more about the traffic. i'm as fascinated by its jams as i am by its flowing well. i'm not sure of the answers. perhaps injections of some kind could eliminate the pesky human-err factor from the sparkling systems of civil engineering that would ensure clean roads. but that might be creepy. i don't know.
ghost cars indeed!
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