I hope you realize how much I actually enjoy putting these strings of words, like Christmas lights, together. The possibilities are endless, really. I remember, over Thanksgiving, talking about music with my unmusical uncle. Him saying, "You…
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It's not that I'm suffering from writer's block or anything queer like that, it's just that there's a lot going on in the office and in life. The difficult thing for me, when it comes to writing, is making sense of all these little red and white ideas hanging down from the ceiling like origami birdies. I'd prefer to spend my entire day writing.
The Library of Congress has posted Bound for Glory: America in Color, an online exhibition of color images taken by the Farm Security Administration from 1935–1944. Amazing stuff.
Ex-physics teacher John Atkinson pays his kids $1 for each example of bad science they spot in the movies they see. For The Day After Tomorrow, IIRC, he instituted a $50 cap.
The February issue is just about done. I mean, we've...
I can't even think...
I can't even think...
We've sent away all our little words, pictures, and ideas to become magically colorful, glossy, and bound.
It's a miracle, really.
This is when we all sort of flop around, waiting for something to happen.
Here we are, crowded together dumbly, jittering with What Happens Next(?!), trembling with What Are We Forgetting(?!), teeming with Did We Spell Everything Right(?!), and completely frigging overcome by Oh God, Is It Over(?!).
This is also when we make jokes about…