fri 09 feb 01
the world moves in cycles, and today is no different. each day is a small circle in itself; i anticipate the morning, and my next rebirth. catch you on the flip side ... better things to do than hang on the 'net.
check this out: tokihiro sato, 'breathing light'. way cool.
the original photo secession.
a photographer friend recommends fotostation. organize.
yuck-o. make photocubes from your images.
then there's auto carnage, the darker side of america's car culture. but i love a road trip!
for susan, speedtrap.com ...
artcars in cyberspace.
out west ... the newspaper that roams.
travelling the silk road in words and pictures.
warning: it's 119k:
a graphical representation of campbell's "hero's journey."
fun. the creative mind, analyzed by computer scientists. where'd i put my pocket protector ... ?
cool. 291 brooklyn.
uh-oh. alwin's been 'criticked'. just for the record, my blog is insipid, vapid and it totally sucks ... just like yours. we all suck. except for netdyslexia. and we're damned proud of it. but seriously, criticism is at a crux today, my friend. whereas one used to critique a work in relation to its nature, or its effect on the audience ... the latest technique is to cast the art against the artist his/herself. when one puts a piece of art out there, you open yourself to all kinds of psychological analysis now. critics make judgments about *your* essential nature, assumptions about your motivation. does it make the art any less valuable? sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. could any of us weblog better? of course. but what's the baseline standard to judge against? there isn't one. there'll never be one. because we, and our technology, are changing way too fast. case in point - it seems your critics were not even aware of the 'themes' function in manila. so ignore the critics, and blog away my friend. your particular audience is listening.
postmodernism and its critics.
mondrian and the dialectic of essence.
ugh. i had a manager who told me this once: 'garret ... another day, another dollar. a million days, a million dollars.' didn't help me one bit.
history of billy the kid. he was a new yawkah ...
santa fe new mexican: billy the kid, john tunstall, and the lincoln county war. [linkrot; good for 12 hrs.]
i don't know why, but this popped into my head. maybe guilt from a minimal news day. if you run and do yoga, *don't* do full lotus. it loosens the tendons on the sides of the knee, increasing the likelihood of injury. it's not that the full lotus is bad, just that for running or any sports that incorporate running, you need dynamic tension in that joint to maintain stability. in other words, buddhist monks don't play lacrosse ...
nytimes: yellowstone moose readapt to predators. a whole issue previously unmentioned ... the effect on grazing herds who have never experienced a predator.
cnn: watch moses as he gets a bath ... live.
spark-online: the new renaissance.
usa today: the grass is greener in the other building ...
not much to catch the eye today; the western world seems to slow down on fridays. actually, that's great.
msnbc: guilty until proven innocent. looking at the biometrics of the superbowl. next thing you know, it'll be at mall entrances ...
the mercury news looks at the amazon honor system, and other payment tech. not exactly your knight in shining armor, it seems.
i was reading this on security focus, but had to link because of the ridiculous frame-within-a-frame bit. everyone wants to capture hits, i understand that ... but isn't this kind of jazz getting a bit ridiculous? for other news and aggregator sites, their redirection scripts are so slow i end up making my own bookmark lists and hitting the sites directly. then again, i guess the average user is oblivious to the fact that they could be surfing faster ...
the register: sony's organic screens get bigger.
well, you remember that storm the weather service lost while having a toke? i found it. it appeared in much diminished form here over the house, dropping about two inches of crystalline snow. the morning sun's shaft of light in my courtyard reveals a field of sprinkled diamonds ...