Pattern Recognition. One of those books read a couple of times. And probably will be a couple more. The makers studio reminds me of the boxmaker, up in the Tesser Ashpool cores, in Count Zero.
Collections of randomness, arrayed in a manner that somehow captures the sadness and beauty of humanity.
I am going to harvest vegetables tomorrow. This is not my normal job. Nor is it something that up past midnight huffing butts playing endlessly with the web prepares me well for. But then, these ‘evenings’ don’t prepare me well for my day job. Or for anything else for that matter …
Nice not to have to care about finding clean pants for work, for I’ll come back covered in mud. Have to remember to bring a change of clothes, though, shaving stuff so I can shower at a friends and cleaned up for the next eight hours at the office.
Tomorrow is the last harvest. Cold enough I’ll have a couple of layers on. Don’t have to worry about mosquitos, though. I stand in the field with a my coffee, watching the sky, smoking. Peaceful in the fields down by the river in the morning. This late in the year the geese have flown, but there are always
Best I have seen on how to blog, at tonypierce.com busblog. Kind of like a 20 something edgy urban version of the writing advice exercises in Natalie Goldberg’s ‘Wild Mind’. Dead on.
Well, gonna give typepad a try. Thinking of moving my main blog from radio land to moveable type, and somehow I wound up here. Maybe a scrappy little reading and writing blog. Know I’ve got the fever when I’m listening to Prairie Home Companion, eating rice and beans as I type, first meal of the day, dark and where’d the day go?