Doggerella
January 31, 2010
You’ve probably noticed that I’m a catperson. My mother is a dogperson from ‘way back. And recently she’s been thinking about getting a dog.
She looks back fondly on the friendly white fluffy dogs of her youth. My dad, on the other hand, remembers big, burly hunting dogs and snippy little dachsunds who adored everyone but him. He’s more of a catperson. [Read more]
Michelle
January 27, 2010
“I just need $14.50,” the woman said anxiously, “And I’ll have enough for a room for the night. That’s all, and I’m not lying! It’s only so I have a place to sleep.”
I’d run into the beggarwoman outside Powells’ bookstore in Portland’s Pearl District. I’d had a rare hour to spare before my next appointment and so was doing my favorite thing: Drifting the streets and watching.
Flying fish
January 25, 2010
Then there was the time I drove through a perfect storm of fish…
Dunno what’s prompting me to keep diving into memory lane, except that I’m swamped with work and sculpture and friends and not finding a lot of new stories. When you’re not listening to strangers on a train or a park bench, the storytelling muscles tend to turn inward.
Anyway, the fish.
Yelpdesk
January 23, 2010
“No, ma’am, that’s not what I said,” said the support tech. She was using that syrupy, paid-to-be-nice-even-though-you’re-a-moron voice common to kindergarten teachers, hostage negotiators and underpaid helpdesk employees.
My Internet connection had been completely hosed for about 90 minutes and I’d spent the last 30 verifying it with their automated troubleshooter. They finally passed me through to a human.
“What I said was,” she continued carefully, “that we will notify the Outage Department that there may be the start of an outage in your area. We have received a number of calls similar to yours from your area code saying that even though our network is working they are unable to access the Internet, so once we notify the Outage Department they will take steps to determine if there is the start of an outage in your area.”
Brewskiville
January 22, 2010
I don’t drink beer.
Nothing against it, just don’t like the taste, not into the foam, don’t see the point. In glassland, that makes me a very odd duck indeed.
I’ve been told that glassland (Portland, for those of you who don’t speak Cynthia) has more artisan breweries per capita than any city in the world. Could be true for all I know, and there sure seem to be a lot of them, but like I said: I don’t drink the stuff.
The art of ignorance
January 20, 2010
“I just LOVE your collection,” I gushed, “Absolutely incredible. How long have you been collecting?”
My host looked puzzled…
Lemme backtrack a bit: I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t obsessed with art, but it’s rarely played nicely with my other obsession, technology. Since technology pays the bills, art has almost always taken a back seat.
I treasure the rare moments when they’ve combined, as in computer animation, or the heady time I was asked to join a tech corporation’s selection committee for buying “positional” art (which, as it turned out, was because they wanted me to write nice things about their products, not because they really wanted my artistic opinion).
Compound eyes
January 16, 2010
This was a week of contrasts, of suicide bombers and gems, art and armor. A rich week of brainstorming and artstorming and talk, one that brought home the value of new and shared perceptions.
Limo ride
January 15, 2010
The important dude sat opposite me in the limo, confident and just a tad patronizing, flanked by his PR handler and the most amazingly beautiful woman I’d ever met.
He was the CEO of a big multinational and I was covering his company’s new product line. His only available timeslot was the early-morning drive to the airfield, so here I was, scooted in next to his grownup son.
Finish work. Emphasis on WORK.
January 11, 2010
I can’t think of anything more bliss-inducing than the act of creation. Shaping the vision in your head, translating it to a material, refining and smoothing and releasing it on your worktable. Walking around it, knowing it’s as perfect as you can make it. And enjoying it.
Boy, does it go downhill from there. The rest of the making process, to be honest, pretty much sucks.
What is your why?
January 8, 2010
Encountering a homeless guy on a dark and lonely sidestreet isn’t always a happy situation; I was nervous. But the man, tall, swaying, reeking of booze and piss, only blocked my path for a moment.
“What is your why?” he asked, and moved aside.