Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Chemical Computer Thinking Battery
I'm listening to Neil Young's TRANS right now. So anything can happen.
Or as a guy at work keeps saying, "It's the wave of the FUTURE. Wave of the FUTURE. Wave of the FUTURE." Luckily, we have a strict recycling policy with regard to the glass bottles.
Just in case I haven't made it clear -- and before I write this, I need to say that I mean no offense to the other sites that I link to -- but David Johns's site is incredible. Simple, yes. But the pictures are amazing. I guess it's partly timing. I'm so sick of reading bad sites that the natural find was a photog site.
"We'll send it out right away. Satisfaction guaranteed. Please specify. The color of skin and eyes."
Ah, TRANS.
My writing has been about all consumed by the novel lately. It's a 3-parter and I'm determined to get the 2nd (what I consider the plotted, boring) part done by month's end. I made the goal harder by finishing the end of the section before getting to it. Why does that make the writing harder? Well, I know what I have to get to, yes. But it's a major emotional point. Kind of takes me aback when I read it. I'm pretty sure I'm going to rush toward it. At this point, I don't care too much. I keep saying to myself, "I'll fix it in the rewrite." That's when it's easiest to fix anyway.
My writing is always better when I ditch adverbs. They truly are useless.
I taught Nolan to do a high-five. He loves it. Now if we could only teach the little monster to go to sleep.
The neighbor next door to us still hasn't removed the huge pile of dirt in our parking slab and put a garage in. This is the old hippie who asked us to remove a stone wall because he wanted to build a garage. 16 months ago. I'm really at the end of my patience with him. One of these days I'm gonna see him and not even speak, just start screaming and maybe throw shit in his yard, kick over his motorcycle and create a whole big incident. That's what my friend Beavis would do. Nah, I guess I couldn't do that. But I really want the big pile of dirt removed from our parking slab.
We saw the peak colors this weekend. They were peak.
I just heard there was going to be a sixth Rocky movie, so I'm going to come right out and say it: they all suck. ALL OF THEM. Maybe it's because I like boxing, because the boxing in ANY Rocky film looks shockingly fake. Don't talk to me about how great Rocky I was or how much of a masterpiece II was, or how fun III was because of Mr. T., or even how IV was OK because of how he beat the Russian guy -- they ALL suck. Over-acted, fake, cliched drivel. So quit whining about Stallone making another one: he shouldn't have made ANY one.
"And you need me like ugly needs a mirror. And day by day, this horizon's getting clearer."
Ah, TRANS.
Or as a guy at work keeps saying, "It's the wave of the FUTURE. Wave of the FUTURE. Wave of the FUTURE." Luckily, we have a strict recycling policy with regard to the glass bottles.
Just in case I haven't made it clear -- and before I write this, I need to say that I mean no offense to the other sites that I link to -- but David Johns's site is incredible. Simple, yes. But the pictures are amazing. I guess it's partly timing. I'm so sick of reading bad sites that the natural find was a photog site.
"We'll send it out right away. Satisfaction guaranteed. Please specify. The color of skin and eyes."
Ah, TRANS.
My writing has been about all consumed by the novel lately. It's a 3-parter and I'm determined to get the 2nd (what I consider the plotted, boring) part done by month's end. I made the goal harder by finishing the end of the section before getting to it. Why does that make the writing harder? Well, I know what I have to get to, yes. But it's a major emotional point. Kind of takes me aback when I read it. I'm pretty sure I'm going to rush toward it. At this point, I don't care too much. I keep saying to myself, "I'll fix it in the rewrite." That's when it's easiest to fix anyway.
My writing is always better when I ditch adverbs. They truly are useless.
I taught Nolan to do a high-five. He loves it. Now if we could only teach the little monster to go to sleep.
The neighbor next door to us still hasn't removed the huge pile of dirt in our parking slab and put a garage in. This is the old hippie who asked us to remove a stone wall because he wanted to build a garage. 16 months ago. I'm really at the end of my patience with him. One of these days I'm gonna see him and not even speak, just start screaming and maybe throw shit in his yard, kick over his motorcycle and create a whole big incident. That's what my friend Beavis would do. Nah, I guess I couldn't do that. But I really want the big pile of dirt removed from our parking slab.
We saw the peak colors this weekend. They were peak.
I just heard there was going to be a sixth Rocky movie, so I'm going to come right out and say it: they all suck. ALL OF THEM. Maybe it's because I like boxing, because the boxing in ANY Rocky film looks shockingly fake. Don't talk to me about how great Rocky I was or how much of a masterpiece II was, or how fun III was because of Mr. T., or even how IV was OK because of how he beat the Russian guy -- they ALL suck. Over-acted, fake, cliched drivel. So quit whining about Stallone making another one: he shouldn't have made ANY one.
"And you need me like ugly needs a mirror. And day by day, this horizon's getting clearer."
Ah, TRANS.
