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A Fool's Paradise

2009-11-06T23:29:19Z

A funny thing that comes to mind on certain days: that, when I woke up that morning, I couldn't have predicted that I would be in that particular spot. I was thinking that with the late afternoon sun lasering through the passenger window on the w...

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Dare To Dip?

2009-11-03T01:14:52Z

Perhaps the most egregious serving suggestion on record... considering the salt and funk content of these OnionGarlicWise chips. But, Oh... I have dared. First thing in the morning... with day-old spinach dip. With a Dr.Pepper on the side. Ju...

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There Now... That Wasn't So Good Now, Was It?

2009-10-26T14:36:01Z

(Quote lifted from fictitious arts critic, LeonardPinth-Garnell) If today was Hallowe'en, there'd be no need for extensive costuming: I just took a look at myself in the mirror, and I swore I was participating in a ZombieWalk. Children would scre...

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Octubre Sorpresa

2009-10-23T14:22:18Z

It's like clockwork, or destiny: either my immune system goes on vacation, the intense four-class mid-term is taking its toll, or I've fallen victim to the germ-factory that is our school system. Again, O Cruel October, with your ridiculous tempe...

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Runnin' Low On Memories

2009-10-19T22:33:36Z

I'm not trying to make any big statement, here. Just, I was listening to Iggy & the Stooges at ridiculous volumes on the ride back from drawing class, today, and reveled in the wry, clever, twisted lyrics. Yes, there are lyrics under that barrag...

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Tout Le Monde Sont Critiques Des Artes

2009-10-16T13:53:57Z

A cold, hard fact I didn't need to take drawing classes to discover: there's no "salary" for a person who thinks they can make a living, selling pieces of their ego. Here's a good illustration (with absolutely no pun intended): We were wrapping ...

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estudio...

2009-10-15T01:33:33Z

...todos las días.

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MAlice! In the NYT!

2009-10-14T14:07:37Z

One of my erstwhile blog buddies, gone onto bigger and better things (malice.diaryland.com, seen on AceOfCakes) is now proud owner of a name-check in the Times: You go, pastry lady.

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Whistling Past The Graveyards

2009-10-14T00:19:34Z

Since following the commuting horde will never be something that appeals to me, more often than not, I choose to find the back roads to my destinations. Some call them "Blue Highways". It might not be the most time-sensitive choice, but, if I can ...

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In A Nutshell

2009-09-25T15:23:00Z

When it's a sound to which you've become unaccustomed, the hiss of rain outside your window, late in the night, will wake you. For weeks, it's been Dry Gulch in this corner of the chaos, sagging, in the wee hours, "lugubriously". "Lugubrious". I ...

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