Meg dragged me over to the Cleveland Clinic tonight to hear a talk by world-famous designer, architect, and sustainability guru William McDonough. I ended up really enjoying it.
Go green building! Make the world better, and make my wife rich!
Meg dragged me over to the Cleveland Clinic tonight to hear a talk by world-famous designer, architect, and sustainability guru William McDonough. I ended up really enjoying it.
Go green building! Make the world better, and make my wife rich!
This was a weird one for me: I actually used a complete article (the NYtimes article on Tony Millionaire), and then pasted all the parts together to make one looong poem:
So…the 3-day weekend approaches. I think we’re going to sleep in a bunch, read, draw, maybe hit the art museum, walk the cemetery, then go see Harvey and Joyce at the Coventry Unitarian Church (Sat 8PM), and then celebrate Meg’s birthday on Monday.
Have a good one!
Haven’t posted one of these things in a while…
Found a really, really ratty secondhand copy of this, so I made an old-fashioned book cover out of a Whole Foods bag.
My wife is always reading craft blogs, and I think I actually impressed her with this. She should’ve seen my bookcovers in junior high! (I think I could draw the whole Dookie cover from memory…)
Gerry Canavan pointed out this great paragraph from a review of Haruki Murakami’s new book:
Over the past 25 years, literary fiction has increasingly disdained the strict tenets of social realism. Our finest writers are now producing what is essentially science fiction (Cormac McCarthy’s The Road), alternate history (Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policemen’s Union) and absurdist fantasy (the short stories of George Saunders). A hot author such as Jonathan Lethem proudly introduces the work of Philip K. Dick for the Library of America. Neil Gaiman, creator of the Sandman series, has achieved rock-star status. We are living in an age when genre fiction — whether thrillers or graphic novels, children’s books or sf — seems far more exciting and relevant than well-wrought stories of adultery in Connecticut.
Hehe, I really hope that last sentence was a swipe at John Updike.
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