links for 2008-03-29
March 29, 2008- Comments
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links for 2008-03-24
March 24, 2008-
Denial. All of us, in denial.
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One moment
March 23, 2008
In between one moment and the next, having run out of time to do work, or prepare the ground, or make a difference, this evening shall be spent in deep, indulgent, excessive contemplation. The long weekend was pleasant - Bones, Monocle, relishing the feeling of letting oneself go, mornings and afternoons spent in the pleasant pursuit of a languor that somehow eluded us both. There be dreams in the making.
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links for 2008-03-23
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Muffin and munchkin.
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Even if we can’t afford them here…
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My best rediscovery.
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How does one find the time?
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Someday sometime, soon.
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Before we jump
March 22, 2008
Food, naturally, after a month’s worth of occasional photos, spoilt lenses, obligations, erstwhile friends and happy dreams. There will be time to balance talk of the here and now. Oh, and: Werner’s Oven, Borgos, Ghim Moh. Yum.
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links for 2008-03-22
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There’ll be no end to the story.
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Transparency, accountability… How long, the road.
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Now if I let myself tag every link with food, a story, and photos, it’ll be the end of my sanity. Ah.
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Hardly indicative.
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For muffin.
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What makes a thing right?
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links for 2008-03-21
March 21, 2008-
Megafauna?
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One way or the other.
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Closer to home than we think.
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This is worth living for, even in times like these.
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What we are worth.
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In denial, each and every one of us.
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Watch the entire speech; it’s better than ketchup.
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I.. disagree?
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Pot and kettle?
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Dave Eggers and education, with an idea that might actually work here. How We Are Hungry. How.
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I was at a cognitive low, my dear. What was that again?
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I wanted to be an English Literature Professor, not a writer, but ended up in Television, and now I shall tell you about the Golden Rule. Ah.
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Post-teenage years, there is no purpose to life.
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links for 2008-03-20
March 20, 2008-
Unuseless.
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Shortcuts never work.
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The British government has finally woken up to the idea of nationhood.
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Penny wise, pound foolish.
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Now if only I were 18.
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Hence the cute games on our PSP.
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Steam and shrapnel.
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Vitellogenins!
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The Human Speechome Project. Umm.
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It’s no iFund.
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It’s worth it.
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I’m not waiting for the print edition, or white hair.
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The only hint of weirdness came with the pomegranate-poached pear: the fruit, stained violently incarnadine, sat in an unfortunate chartreuse soup, speared with what resembled, in texture, a dog biscuit. It looked awful. It tasted delicious.
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Looking outwards
March 19, 2008Every day, even with Newsfire, I end up with a thousand or so posts that I can never read in full. Lethargy, apathy, circumstance, the litany of excuses for not being alive - not that reading every post in a devilishly simple newsreader is life - somehow gives me that feeling, that peculiar disconnectedness, isolation, that I’ve savoured in so many train stations around the world. Tanjong Pagar, the old King’s Cross, Baltimore, Grand Central, York, Tampere (in Finland), Syracuse, dozens of open-air, identified-only-by-cyrillic-script platforms where trains could stop. At everyone, at some ungodly hour, laden with packs and books, a mind quelled and bursting, but knowing that for that short eternity between now and that time on the board, there is nothing. Nothing.
That’s for another time, though. I explain briefly the revival of del.icio.us, Pukka, Newsfire, the habit of marshalling links and devouring, consuming, waiting for the day when, like a balanced meal, there will be a cloud of tags bursting with colour, my inner leanings, and every spark that I ever knew somehow here again. Photos like only a mechanical, unseeing camera could capture, lines from scraps of plays, film, secret books and passing souls, and a symphony of knowledge, information, ideas that I have come to believe is possible with.
Be not afraid.
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