This Is Your Mind on Type
New study: <I>High Times</I> is not a gateway publication to hard reading.
New study: <I>High Times</I> is not a gateway publication to hard reading.
Bagheera simply dribbles off the bookshelf for hours at a time—after she rids it of those troublesome books, of course.
Huckleberry mutters and plots while cleaning his weapons of mouse destruction.
Neil Gaiman gets a tribute disc. I hope it's as cool as he is.
Signs of sickness, with a scent like ennui, all over the apartment: dirtied tissues tossed to the floor, the many jilted cups of tea, unfinished this, unwashed that, empty cans of soup, the pale and quiet Moscode.
American high-end companies are freaking out about the new RoHS standards. Turns out it could silence church organs, too.
It ain't hi-fi, but this is a turntable you sure ain't gonna see it anywhere else.
So I have no idea what this photo is about. Any guesses?
I'm working here—and I like it.
I'm sick. About as sick as I've ever been. Come to think of it, I haven't really been well since I came down with the flu at CES. I've been fighting something ever since. And today, it knocked me out. Fever, chills, pain all throughout my body, an excruciating headache.