Bamboo

Sunshine on my bamboo makes me happy

I can only grow one thing, er, let me rephrase, I can only not kill one thing: Bamboo.

I don’t let this bother me, because I am not very good at many things, and there are others that do them very well. It’s the blending of our talents that lends some semblance of balance to things.

The bamboo survives as I leave for long trips and neglect it for weeks. Just some fresh water now and then, and we get along just fine.

This morning, the sun was shining nicely in the bathroom window and the bamboo seemed well.

PhotosBamboo galore.

Rainy drive home

View through the windshield

The wind is HOWLING here, moving bits of the house around that aren’t attached very well. The rain comes and goes.

I wish I could record sounds with decent fidelity.

Work was good mid-Ohio.

Drove back listening to a mix CD in the works, deciding that three songs need to be cut due to too much audio variation. I’ve no desire to tweak, I’ll just find more songs.

I wrote things on the back of a checkbook that I thought were really interesting.

When I got home and fed myself for the calories, they were no longer interesting.

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Consistency, yay.

Green light. Bland caption.

In my effort to concoct some visual notation to accompany daily postings, I’ve found myself at a bit of an intersection. Perhaps this was because I saw this weblog and felt a few things:

  1. Maybe I don’t need to post daily. Perhaps I should only post when I have something to say.
  2. I’d like to have greater creative control to experiment more with the layout, categorization and archiving.
  3. I’m so anal.

I came to these conclusions.

  1. I’m trying to find some consistency here. A rhythm regardless of audience. I figure if I can accomplish this, I can tackle other things with similiar dedication.
  2. It’s not about design, it’s about content. Even if it is insipid. Worrying about layout is a good way to avoid writing. Though it does remind me how I could only write in matching bound journals with a particular pen back through high school and the nineties.
  3. Lastly, it’s okay to be anal.

In other news:

  • Columbus gig has agreed to all budgets and it looks like I won’t need to forage for work over the next year. This is a great relief. With numbers out of the way, I’ve been particularly productive this week on all fronts. This makes me happy.
  • We signed a one-year lease extension for the studio downtown after being completely honest with the landlord. They kept the same terms and simply modified our option and were pleased to get the signature.
  • Grabbed by the Ghoulies for the XBOX should be renamed – Bored by the Cutscenes. Boo Rare, Boo.
  • Also in videogaming news: Nintendo is idiotic for naming their latest GameBoy Advance game: Super Mario Bros 3: Super Mario Advance 4. This is completely moronic.
  • Levis should be boycotted for changing the pattern of the 501s. Thanks for shedding light on this scandal, Pratt.
  • The Strokes new album sounds like the last Strokes album, but the neato factor is gone.
  • I am a consumer whore.

Link of the day: Computer Language Inventor or Serial Killer (requires Flash)

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An intervention

Time out

Heather caught me online this morning, before I made it to the studio. She said it was too nice a day, we should “work” from her house. Dave was indifferent and agreed to play along. So I picked up a McGriddle and made my way out to her countryside abode.

I was suspicious of her motives, but driving away from the city on a day like this sounded good. Besides, Heather was being adamant.

“Is this an intervention?” I asked while we regarded a joint outside on the deck.

“What could we possibly intervene with you? Getting it up the butt too much?” (Heather has crude ideas about gay sex)

I laughed off the ass-crack, “I meant, for you! An intervention for you… (meaningless pause) Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Having your own intervention is… tacky.” She replied.

Dave arrived soonafter and decided, if he were to host his own intervention, it would be a lot better than this.

We rolled that idea around for a while while looking at the fall foliage. As the leaves drop, you can start to see a bend of the Ohio River far off in the distance from this vantage.

I thought out loud: “Having your own intervention is a good idea. Get all these people over and say that — I brought you together because I have a problem, and I’ll need your help.

See, I put up with a lot of bullshit, and it needs to stop. Then proceed to go around the group and single everyone out, telling them what annoys you.

Then we started drinking.

Almost a thirty second fall

It’s going by so fast

I’m beginning to find a slight zen on my 100 mile commute between Cincinnati and Columbus. I suppose it will get old, as the leaves disappear completely, but for now, I’ll savor.

It seems as though the trees that were green two weeks ago are a lot more bare. There’s not too many reds along this trip either. Tons of golds.

I feel like I haven’t been surrounded by nature enough, I hope to rectify that this weekend.

It’s going by too fast, this autumn.

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