In lieu of watching the Super Bowl last night, I watched the movie Drive, staring Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, Ron Perlman, and the amazing Albert Brooks. I was blown away by this movie, not what I was expecting. It's a stylistic, existential, man with no name movie in the spirit of Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy. Only, instead of Clint Eastwood in the old west, we get an equally talented Ryan Gosling with cars,...
I've decided to give the blog idea another shot. So, here's the obligatory new first post to get things started. It's a small nudge to get the lizard brain out of the way and the words flowing again. That little sucker's got a serious hold on me at times. True to my split personality, I've collected both my interests in literature andamp; liberal arts studies along with my interests in programming andamp; technology onto this...
Rest in peace Jack, you knew what was important all along...
I wasn't as productive as I had hoped to be this past week. Of course, that's my own fault. With as ambitious a plan for reading, writing, and programming as I've set for myself this year, it's clear that I will have to set some well defined schedules for myself. Despite this lack of discipline, I did find time to read some powerful essays. ## Reading This was the Emerson week, filled with strange incantations...
A surfeit can be generally described as an excess of something, usually in terms of eating or drinking. In other words: a gluttonous meal. Which is what I feel I've eaten at the end of the week, when I've collected too much reading material, too many thoughts, and a general distemper for any more mental gymnastics andmdash; be they technical or literary in nature. I overindulge in my zeal toward subjects I'm interested in. But...
In a letter to a colleague, Kafka once wrote: > I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn't wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? ...we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished...
I'm sure I'm not in the minority when I admit that I consistently compare myself to others. It's a human trait, and an annoying one at that. For a would be writer it's a near death sentence. I mean, how can I possibly expect to write another short story after reading an anthology of Philip K. Dick stories? It just doesn't seem possible! Yet, stop comparing we must. Remember: You are this infinitely unique miracle...
There comes a time when it's not so much about who you are as it is about who you aren't. When you realize who you aren't, you're getting closer to understanding who you are. But, that's a wonderful thing. Because, it means you're narrowing it down, shaping the idea, and getting closer to the truth of what you're all about. It's a lot like producing a work of art. A painting isn't imagined as a...
It's time to get back to this project. However, I've come up with a few rules for myself: * I'll try to blog every day, but I won't sweat it if I miss a day. Chances are, I'll schedule posts a few days in advance. * Word counts are for poseurs - well, at least that's what I'm telling myself now. In other words, I'll write as long as the post requires. I'll let the...
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows by itself. ~ from the Zenrin kushu When I was young, I was given some Chinese Handcuffs. They were tiny, paper finger traps with an ironic method of release. I loved tricking unsuspecting kids with them. I'd snicker with glee as they put their fingers in both ends, only to find they couldn't pull them back out. They were trapped, and the harder they pulled,...