From Thoreau’s diary, Sept. 18, 1859:
Filed under: Thoreau
It’s the 70th birthday to Charles Schulz’s Peanuts, one of the greatest works of American art. (The very first strip ran on Oct. 2, 1950.) In celebration, I thought I’d post a batch of my remixed Peanuts strips I make in my diary, which are made from cut-up Page-A-Day calendars I buy every year. Be forewarned: They’re pretty weird.
Links to four zines worth of them:
See also: “Cutting and pasting the comics”
I was delighted to see that Foxes Board Game Shop on Salt Spring Island was inspired by my post in praise of solvable problems to make a new sign for their store. They are very good at signs, indeed:
Speaking of bored games, I’m at the point in quarantine where I’ve purchased yet another Rubik’s Cube:
I love this one. Buttery action and stickerless. Only trouble is, I’m a bit red/green colorblind, so the low contrast is a little hard on my eyes in low light. Worth $7 for sure.
Speaking of The Cube, there’s been a bunch of Cube-related stuff come out since my February post, most notable of which is the excellent 40-minute documentary, The Speed Cubers, on Netflix:
I literally do not know how these kids do it. I have the algorithms memorized and I’m down to around a 2 1/2 minute average on my solve time, but I can’t imagine being able to do it any quicker than one minute or even 30 seconds, let alone 7 seconds. Blows my mind.
Here’s the patent and original prototype by the cube’s inventor, Erno Rubik. He has a new book out called Cubed: The Puzzle of Us All, and was profiled by The New York Times. Loved the description of tinkering in his childhood bedroom, which resembled “the inside of a child’s pocket, with crayons, string, sticks, springs and scraps of paper scattered across every surface.”
These days, he spends his time reading sci-fi, playing table tennis, gardening and tending to his cactuses: “They have wonderful flowers and long life spans.” He is not done with the cube. He still reflects on its possibilities — not an improvement to its design, but on its potential applications.
“I am not doing it because I want to become a champion, or because I am expecting new discoveries from playing it. At the same time, I am expecting some new potentials for the basic ideas,” Rubik said. “I see potentials which are not used yet. I’m looking for that.”
I had a breakthrough recently where I was finally able to solve the (longest) algorithm for moving the corner cubes in the top row counterclockwise or clockwise. Turns out the problem was my badly copied notes, which broke the algorithm into two lines and made it seem more complicated than it is:
A dumb mistake with a good lesson: while copying notes by hand is worthwhile for retention, re-copying them might be even more worthwhile for comprehension.
(Is this the nerdiest post I’ve ever written? Quite possibly.)
Today I remembered that the ancients named the seven days after the five planets known to them — plus the sun and moon — but only three of the days correlate in English: Satur(n)-day, Sun-day, and Mo(o)n-day. The other days are derived from Anglo-Saxon names for gods:
Sunday | Sun’s day |
Monday | Moon’s day |
Tuesday | Tiu’s day |
Wednesday | Woden’s day |
Thursday | Thor’s day |
Friday | Freya’s day |
Saturday | Saturn’s day |
Here’s a video explanation:
After watching that video back in January, my son and I tried to map it out for ourselves (I believe strongly in copying out charts to better understand them):
This is the time of year I think a lot about seasons and how we’ve managed to carve up time. It’s amazing how much of this stuff we just take for granted. For example, the word “month” comes from “moon,” as the months roughly correlate to the length of a moon cycle. (This month, wonderfully, begins with a full moon and ends on a full moon.)
Here’s a lovely thought from my friend John T. Unger, who, after reading Thoreau on October, tweeted:
“Sunset month of the year” struck me this morning, made me realize the parallel between seasons and days. Spring is like early morning, summer; mid-day, fall; sunset and evening, winter; night. Damn, how nature loves to re-use a pattern.
Filed under: Time
“I am capable of learning nothing from almost any experience, no matter how profound.”
—Tim Kreider, We Learn Nothing
100 days ago, I announced I was easing up on blogging and fun daily projects like my blind contour drawings, mini zines, and collage houses, to star work in earnest on a new book.
The first 30 days went pretty well. I spent a lot of time with my index cards and worked on “The Unschooled Artists” piece that ran in the NYTimes.
50 days in, I had a pretty great book proposal worked up that just needed a table of contents to be ready to pitch.
64 days in, I decided to stuff the whole book proposal in the drawer and postpone it indefinitely. (Oops!)
72 days in, I finished up the #perfect31 project, and remembered how good it was to blog every day.
Then I recorded the audiobook trilogy.
And for the past 4 weeks, I’ve been keeping busy with reading and writing and taking care of a bunch of behind-the-scenes business stuff.
So where am I now? I don’t know! Not sure I even care.
In the past 200 days, I feel like I haven’t learned a single surprising thing about myself or changed my mind about much of anything.
If the pandemic has taught me anything, it’s that it probably isn’t going to teach me anything that I didn’t already know before the pandemic began.
Everything that was true before seems even truer now, and here is what was true before the pandemic:
Anyways, there went those 100 days. I’ll make a note to check in on January 7th and see how these next 100 went…
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