Life

Blog posts about life, art, and everything.

John Singer Sargent motivates

December 1, 2010 | Blog

Along with whistling, cursing and growling, John Singer Sargent would talk to himself while painting. “This is impossible. You can’t do it. Why do you try these things? You know it’s hopeless. It can’t be done.” Followed by “Yes, it can, yes, it can, it can be done – my God, I’ve done it.”

To whom it may concern

November 29, 2010 | Blog

You know, the email replies I write in my head are so much more satisfying then the ones I eventually send. Tact, it seems, is what keeps us all on topic.

Sesame Street and parenting

October 29, 2010 | Blog

My take away from the use of guest stars on Sesame Street is that (like the guest stars) parents can be as morally elastic as we like when the kids aren’t watching, so long as we speak in gentle tones and put on pants when they are around.

The cookroom is on fire

October 19, 2010 | Blog

Forthwith the “kitchen” will no longer be referred to as such, but instead as the “cookroom”, which is more consistent with the nomenclature of the other rooms of the house, such as “bathroom”, “bedroom”, and “living room”. You’re welcome.

Storysome

October 4, 2010 | Blog

“Storysome” ought to be a real word. An adjective meaning to cause an anecdote. For example, you might reflect “Those are some storysome stab wounds,” and then continue on with an adventurous yarn about the day the frogs organized and took over the yard.

Wide awake at 4:30 am

September 30, 2010 | Blog

The following things kept me awake at 4:30 am this morning: source control for the image database; image request 1; image request 2; Buffy’s betrayer in Season 8; the water softener back flush; the time; a touching love story between the last man on Earth and the zombie that steals his heart. Natch!

Garden gnomes

September 29, 2010 | Blog

The garden gnomes tried to get into the house last night. Their hats blew away in the wind, and they got scared. Not enough oatmeal, likely. Their fingers left thin streaks in the grime on the basement windows where they tried to open them. The house flies think the streaks are freeways, up and down, […]