Category: Other

2004: new year, new election coming, clean house, clean dogs.

Last year on this day: I griped about the unavailability of permalinks for comic strips.

Two years ago on this day: I called for putting a foot in the behind of 2001, echoing Boondocks.

My trusty Nokia 3360 is about to go the way of all cellphones. Lately the display screen has stopped working. I can usually get the display back if I press hard above the screen on the case, but it’s getting to be a real pain.

For various reasons (primarily cost and lack of availability through my current carrier) I’m not considering a PDA/phone hybrid right now. Given that constraint, what cell phone should I buy?

Currently in the running: the Sony/Ericsson T68i (though I wasn’t impressed with the flimsy case when I picked one up on Saturday) or one of the new Nokia 3650s with the built in camera. Or the Motorola T720—though if the battery on that is anything like the battery in my old Motorola it’s way way out of the running.

It appears that looters in Baghdad aren’t the only ones to hold history in contempt. The Guardian reports that the Newport City Council has decided not to attempt to excavate the remains of a unique medieval ship found on the construction site for a new arts center, but is instead proceeding with construction. Complete with battling archaelogical trusts and outraged locals.

Which vision of April?

Morley: “April is in my mistress’ face.”

April is in my mistress’ face.
And July in her eyes hath place.
Within her bosom is September,
But in her heart a cold December.

Mr Eliot: April is the cruellest month. (Killer layout, apologies for the inevitable Tripod popups):

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

It looks like Rob’s cancer was successfully removed, with no further repercussions save periodic CAT scans. Thank God.

Well, if it looks like this, maybe. Great review of the new Sony Ericsson P800 in the Register today. I wonder how long it will take AT&T Wireless to make it a supported phone? Oh, probably never.

I was going to post something else here, but just got an email that an old friend of mine from growing up days has cancer. We’re all hoping that Rob pulls through. This is his second run in with cancer; the first, which he had as a child, robbed him of his sight. I’m not often a praying man, but I’m praying that this new cancer won’t take more.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time recently exploring the Black Dog, on the theory that (a) one should know one’s enemy and (b) familiarity breeds contempt. It’s been especially helpful to reconstruct my emotional history, knowing what I know now about the Dog. Even during my first years out of school, when in naïve retrospect I was on top of the world, I can clearly see his footprints. If nothing else, my mix tape explorations have taught me that.

I don’t think of this part of my work as a dance with the Dog, though. Mostly it’s about acknowledging my own emotions, something which my rational brain doesn’t let me do too often.

Spent the day taking down the tree, with Low’s song in my mind.

Careful, one by one
It is undone
Seems before it’s over
It’s begun

I’m still catching up with weblog updates from the last week. Craig has what I think must be the funniest take on post-holiday-shopping ever:

…they are a people ripe for revolution. There’s so many shoppers, and so few staff members, that all it would take is one khaki and mock turtleneck sweater-clad minivan driving suburbanite spartacus to throw off their recipts and original product packaging of bondage, rally the spirits of their brothers and sisters that are being kept down by The Man (r)(tm)(c) and rise up against their oppressors. Surely they can find a better way to run things. I was waiting for someone on the edge to just totally snap and take a hostage with a pricing gun. “Don’t come near me! I’ll mark her down 50%! I’ll mark you all down 50%! You’ll never take me at full retail value!”

I probably won’t do a whole lot of blogging for a while. Michele is stopping by later today, and then begins the Christmas traditions—seafood dinner Christmas eve, big meal and presents Christmas day, and general stupor in the afternoon. Y’all have a good time and remember to love one another.

A year ago today, I was desperately trying to get into the holiday spirit with some Boston Charlie. It strikes me that it’s about that time again…

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla walla, Wash., an’ Kalamazoo!
Nora’s freezin’ on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley’garoo!
Don’t we know archaic barrel,
Lullaby lilla boy, Louisville Lou?

Trolley Molly don’t love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Polly welly cracker n’ too-da-loo!
Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloup, ’lope with you!

Hunky Dory’s pop is lolly gaggin’ on the wagon,
Willy, folly go through!
Chollie’s collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarum bung-a-loo!

Duck us all in bowls of barley,
Ninky dinky dink an’ polly voo!
Chilly Filly’s name is Chollie,
Chollie Filly’s jolly chilly view halloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, Woof, Woof!
Tizzy seas on melon collie!
Dibble-dabble, scribble-scrabble! Goof, Goof, Goof!

(Thanks to Walt Kelly for the lunacy and to the Pogo Page for the Charlie.)

more…

I think I might have to add another category or else transform “Web Design” into just “Design&#8221. As a result of finding typographi.ca, I’m learning about all sorts of type things that I had left behind over the past few years.

I used to fancy myself a typographer, of the digital sort anyway, because unlike my peers in college publications I understood kerning and leading and could identify a few hundred typefaces by sight. (This led to some fun party games with Tyler Magill. One of us would come up with a totally bizarre phrase and the other would have to identify the best way to set it in type. Having an actual computer or type specimen sheet around was cheating…) But somewhere along the way my type lust grew dormant. Not extinct–the fact that I do curly quotes by hand in my HTML should testify to that. Just not active.

Today it’s fully reactivated after looking through the catalog at Fountain. Not only do they have some of the best traditional serifed text faces I’ve seen, including Montrachet, Monteverdi, and Baskerville 1757, but they also have some killer display faces, including the Ketchupa, Mustardo, and Mayo trio. Plus of course free downloads…

This is a sample using Fountain’s interactive typesetter. It was set in Montrachet Italic.