27 March 2011

pixelated ashes, carried by the world wide web winds...

23 March 2011

22 March 2011

the seven sisters abused their cloaks,
and were forced to return to the Skel'tons.
their bitter words were cast to the wind
where the male souls of those words ferried pollen.

two years to the future, biting phrases yield winds but this winds' sting's anemic and dulled, a lifetime's been spent and so little is left - just dust devils of tumbling vowels.

15 March 2011


"Although the wind..."

Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.

Izumi Shikibu

11 March 2011

bike week banners, like satay offerings to the wind gods...

10 March 2011

Years and years ago, I took "commercial art" as an elective - one of the skills I had to master was hand lettering with Speedball pen nibs. Up 'til 2 AM, I was, struggling to make a perfect page - back then, there was no delete key, and no printer.

I trace my extreme dislike for Old English style text, all the way back to 10th grade.

Speedball Textbook

08 March 2011

I've been reading...

"The Song of the Lark", by Willa Cather

"Thea went down to the stream by the Indian water-trail. She had found a bathing-pool with a sand bottom, where the creek was dammed by fallen trees. The climb back was long and steep, and when she reached her little house in the cliff, she always felt fresh delight in its comfort and inaccessibility. By the time she got there, the woolly red-and-grey blankets were saturated with sunlight, and she sometimes fell asleep as soon as she stretched her body on their warm surfaces. She used to wonder at her own inactivity. She could lie there hour after hour in the sun and listen to the strident whirr of the big locusts, and to the light, ironical laugher of the quaking aspens. All her life she had been hurrying and sputtering, as if she had been born behind time and had been trying to catch up. Now, she reflected, as she drew herself out long upon the rugs, it was as if she were waiting for something to catch up with her. She had got to a place where she was out of the stream of meaningless activity and undirected effort. "

The West is where all the wasted minutes are stored, and redistributed to those in need...

PBS created a film based on this book.

07 March 2011

I've been taking virtual walks in Normandy, via google maps, and I've just discovered the "art project", which features virtual tours of the world's most influential art collections.

This is a van Gogh drawing, and if you ever have the opportunity to visit Amsterdam, plan to spend at least one day in a museum...

04 March 2011

"Before you can blame an individual for their choices, you have to make sure they have the same choices as everyone else."

Bix , the fanatic cook.