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Archive for the ‘Literary’ Category

It’s like Where’s Waldo, except with a MacBook. Betcha can’t find it.

Give up? Ok, ok, it’s the tall red-head. Nice, huh?

According to Casey, these were just released today and he’d already ordered mine so it arrived this morning. Most Excellent. Now my laptop won’t feel so out of place among its ancestors.

Go, buy yourself a new BookBook. It’s rad.

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So, I’m wondering if I should post some pictures of people I’ve drawn to give you all a little confidence in sending me your photos…thoughts? I mean, sure, you run the risk of receiving balloon-head pictographs in the style of every 4-year-old you’ve ever known, but what’s life without a little risk, am I right?

Ok, I’ll photograph a few of my things, stick ’em up here as kind of a good-faith sharing of what I can do while I await your good-faith sharing of your photographs. Deal? Yes. Ok good.

Meanwhile, it’s 1:15 in the afternoon and I’m still in jammies. I didn’t feel great when I woke up. Hadn’t slept well, and my neck and eyeballs ached. Obviously I want to shower, but we’re still waiting for the plumber guy to come back today and replace the weak thermo-coupling so that our water can heat up sufficiently. Yesterday the death-trap situation was remedied quickly but at nearly twice the originally quoted price. But they didn’t have the correct part to fix the thermo-couple (coupling? coupler? WTF is the right word there?). So, we have lukewarm water (because if the pilot is up too high—which is to say, hot enough to take a decent shower—it trips a sensor and shuts down), but we’re not currently going to die in our sleep of carbon monoxide poisoning, which is, as you may suspect, an awesome state of affairs.

I’m trying hard to train myself to write everyday. Whether writing on here, or playing around with one of my story ideas, or whatever, my brain needs the daily exercise because when I don’t, every synapse in there rebels and I’m left thinking about………….

See. That right there. That happens when I’m not daily challenging my brain to organize thoughts, connect them, say them better, make them funny or meaningful to something larger. I go blank. I couldn’t think of anything funny or even ordinary or ANYTHING AT ALL to describe this globulous mental atrophy. (And, I know. Globulous is entirely the wrong word, but that’s the sound of word that I want right there and if I was daily working out my brain, I’d be agile enough to find the word that sounds like that that means what I want it to mean. But I’m leaving the wrong word there because it sounds gross and gross is what I’m going for.)

This reminds me of Benjamin Franklin. He complains of exactly this suffering in part one of his autobiography, which I’m reading for my American Lit. class. I have wanted to read it anyway, so I’m happy to do it now. So far, this is the best writing I’ve encountered in all the colonial and pre-colonial American literature we’ve read. Old Franklin is a funny, ironic, and intelligent guy. And he’s bent on improving himself in every activity he pursues. So it’s cool to be reading him now; it’s like inspiration for me to continue on in diligence the things I’m trying to improve: writing, art, life, et al. Go read Ben Franklin; he’ll make you want to be a better citizen.

I’m at a loss as to wrapping this up today…it’s that mental atrophy taking over. This will get better. I will get better. Send me pictures so I can draw you.

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Today marks the fifth anniversary of his death – a truly unfortunate loss, both to the world and to literature.

Also these guys have some great personal accounts.

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