December 2008
27 posts
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Fume by Bon Iver. “Through the walls, I hear...
Post-It Note #4
Even before opening this email application, I have been brainstorming a beginning… It’s weird. It defines perfect, absolute clarity—it’s the plain common sense of dream reality… I am thinking of three things on this windy-clear monday, three things that now I struggle to keep from scattering. There’s a scene in Fight Club. Ideas about an archetypal house on...
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Post-It #3. Extracted from Senior Thesis
… Outside and inside storms staged comings and goings, and bigger storms would come and pierce the town of Weston. And the churches, the market, the banks, and cemeteries would endure because that was the order of things. There is no sad ending, never was. This was the order of things: one’s childhood forgotten. Gardens and botanical woods. The decayed devotion between two people...
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WatchSlideshow of a typical family spending Christmas, unedited. - Dec 2008
WatchRaw footage of a family opening presents - Christmas 2008
Merry Xmas
“We are now approaching the critical time of the year for shops and supermarkets: the month before Christmas is the four weeks when stores of all kinds sell their products fastest. Father Christmas means one thing to children: presents. He has no connection with the original St Nicholas, who performed a miracle in providing dowries for three poor sisters, thereby enabling them to marry and...
Me, Pushing You, Pushing Back. →
Jon’s Xmas day post on the Fire At Vassar campaign.
“One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the...”
– The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens
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Post-It #2 (found)
I’ve returned from a trip to Nepal. Or so it’s said. I’ve returned uninjured. The airport is empty. I am eating an egg McMuffin because eating is one thing you do as you wait for the train to start in Hong Kong. It is early. Too early for anything to begin functioning. I’m with Brian, who’s my older brother. He’s with his blackberry, checking emails. This food is hard to stomach. He’s...
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Post-it Note #1
This began as an idea, a thought in the bed of my sleep, and when I clawed the ground for clues—for a kernel, a beginning—I honestly believed that I could take this clump of clay and sculpt something stunning. An idea, I hoped, so brilliant a calm would fall. I thought, and that was my first mistake.
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One of my favorite etymologies belongs to “Technology” — no better word connects Virgil and Google with writing and what I do professionally.
I much enjoy having only the cloudiest notion of your actual manipulations of computers and their effects; I think of you as a present day magister ludi. -Professor Weedin