Entries from December 2007 ↓

From 1990, my Audio Physics lab book. A cool subject, but I apparently had my mind on other things. The doodle here is one of the first attempts at realizing the metaphor behind this and this.

This is great. My birthday cards for both 1987 and 1988, from my maternal Granny and Grandpa. Just found ‘em during this life-changing purge of the garage attic.

First, 1987:

And now, 1988:

They’ve always been so practical. God bless ‘em.

Not that any of us care. But it’s scanned here for permanent record, as the hardcopy’s going in the blue recycle bin with a boatload of other things. =continued=

Following my muse
Is what I have always done.
Now it follows me.

Juiced up and squeezing in a quiet moment at the Korean Bell of Friendship with the whole place to myself. Well, I mean, with these guys, of course. Christmas 2007.

Cheers. Next year all our troubles will be miles away.

Hey, friends. If you’re reading this, I’d like to encourage you to turn off your computer for a few days. Unplug. Take some time to re-evaluate your surroundings. Get some empty boxes. Break out the vacuum cleaner, grab some dust rags. Look at your closets. Empty your drawers. Pull things off the shelves. Make three piles:

• KEEP
• GIVE AWAY
• TRASH

My guess is that if we all did this, there’d be a lot of stuff in the trash, or passed on to somebody who can use the clutter. I’ll be doing the same thing, using some free time in the next week to regroup, inhale, and start 2008 fresh. Let’s remember this rule:

If you haven’t seen something in a year, then you’ll never miss it. Toss it. Now.

Until I find a way back in here, have yourself a Merry little Christmas. That’s right. Merry fucking Christmas. No politically correct Happy Holidays bullshit from this kid. We all want to say it, so say it: Merry Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year. If people can’t handle that simple two-word phrase, then they can take their weak narrow minds somewhere else that’s not so free and brave and throw a little private party for their miserable ball-less selves.

Merry Christmas, and have a good rest of 2007. Get it done.

The voice of my paternal grandfather wishing us all a Merry Christmas from Honolulu in 1971.

This just in!

Dear Six-Word Memoirist,

As I hope you know by now, the Six-Word Memoir you submitted to SMITH Magazine’s contest has been selected for SMITH’s new book Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure, which will be published by HarperPerennial on February 5th. Congratulations, thank you, and welcome.

=more info here=

Take the the test to see if you can determine if these names belong to Web companies or pharmaceutical companies.

I got 42%, or 17 out of 40 correct. I couldn’t help from noticing that on each question I kept saying the same six words, out loud:

I REALLY HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.

From fimoculous. Gotta love #1. And, of course, #9 will always be one of my “favorites”.

“Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.”
– Henry Ward Beecher

Cool. House of Tartan has an online interactive weaver, allowing you to choose the colors and the mathematics for your tartan.

I wonder if I’m the first one to weave a Fibonacci Tartan. Probably.