The BCS is back! Is it her swan song? Possibly.
But before she'll even consider exiting stage left, she invites you to take a gander at these autumnal scenes.
Yes, it is a royal sort of day. Or so one presumes.
October 30, 2007
October 26, 2007
Office space
On Monday, my computer at work decided not to turn on. Poof! Dead.
So now I have to use an intern's old Mac mini, which is just as adorable and silver as it is likely to crash after running InDesign for more than an hour. I have named it Dupree.
You're cramping my style, Dupree. Hop to it.
So now I have to use an intern's old Mac mini, which is just as adorable and silver as it is likely to crash after running InDesign for more than an hour. I have named it Dupree.
You're cramping my style, Dupree. Hop to it.
October 23, 2007
Miationary
strungover strung • o • ver adj (2007)
1 : experiencing a state of fatigue, muscle tension, self-pity, irritability, and cold-like symptoms immediately following a prolonged period of intense editorial entrapment when a : accompanied by the realization that the extra work is not truly necessary and probably not that useful but feels intellectually obligatory, and has for years now b : exacerbated by a potential 30-day period of added physical, emotional, and financial stress caused by displacing and replacing oneself in different cities with an offensive amount of stuff c : compounded by the removal or suppression of love d : resulting in a profound suspicion that all of this is self-inflicted and the inflictor should really, come on now, just get up from the computer, get a grip, and get some damn sleep.
1 : experiencing a state of fatigue, muscle tension, self-pity, irritability, and cold-like symptoms immediately following a prolonged period of intense editorial entrapment when a : accompanied by the realization that the extra work is not truly necessary and probably not that useful but feels intellectually obligatory, and has for years now b : exacerbated by a potential 30-day period of added physical, emotional, and financial stress caused by displacing and replacing oneself in different cities with an offensive amount of stuff c : compounded by the removal or suppression of love d : resulting in a profound suspicion that all of this is self-inflicted and the inflictor should really, come on now, just get up from the computer, get a grip, and get some damn sleep.
October 17, 2007
October 12, 2007
Bright lights, big city
I love Oakland. I do. But even on this cold, rainy day in my drafty cube, I have to say—I’ve been feeling San Francisco lately.
I’m a charmed wanderer in Telegraph Hill (see below): RJ’s, Coit Tower, Levi Plaza, the busy piers, long lunchtime walks up the slopes and down through North Beach, and my very first city office a few blocks away on Lombard, in case I get nostalgic for ’99.
I’m a shutterbug downtown: the pricey cornucopia at the Ferry Building, the lean and elegant architecture, the curving cable-car tracks, the eye of MOMA, the half-buried ship at Yerba Buena, tea at Samovar, cocktails at B.
I’m a happy weekender in Noe: coffee at Martha’s, brunch at Fattoush, fruit and honey at the farmers market, foofs on Clipper.
I’m a greedy consumer in the Haight and the Richmond: everything used at Amoeba, shelves of Canteens at Booksmith and Green Apple, costumes at Buffalo Exchange, kitchen gear at Kamei, happy hours at Club Deluxe, the palate cleanser of windy jogging paths through Golden Gate Park and the Presidio.
I’m at home in the Mission: burritos at Papalote and Cancun, readings at the Make-Out Room, music at the Elbo Room, drinks at the Latin American, tango and run-ins at Revolution, party shirts at Weston Wear, books at Dog Eared, friends everywhere.
To be fair, the list is even longer for the East Bay—about 12 years’ worth, give or take college and France—but something tells me if there were ever a time to cross the bridge, it’s getting to be right about now.
We’ll see.
polefaces, telegraph hill
I’m a charmed wanderer in Telegraph Hill (see below): RJ’s, Coit Tower, Levi Plaza, the busy piers, long lunchtime walks up the slopes and down through North Beach, and my very first city office a few blocks away on Lombard, in case I get nostalgic for ’99.
I’m a shutterbug downtown: the pricey cornucopia at the Ferry Building, the lean and elegant architecture, the curving cable-car tracks, the eye of MOMA, the half-buried ship at Yerba Buena, tea at Samovar, cocktails at B.
I’m a happy weekender in Noe: coffee at Martha’s, brunch at Fattoush, fruit and honey at the farmers market, foofs on Clipper.
I’m a greedy consumer in the Haight and the Richmond: everything used at Amoeba, shelves of Canteens at Booksmith and Green Apple, costumes at Buffalo Exchange, kitchen gear at Kamei, happy hours at Club Deluxe, the palate cleanser of windy jogging paths through Golden Gate Park and the Presidio.
I’m at home in the Mission: burritos at Papalote and Cancun, readings at the Make-Out Room, music at the Elbo Room, drinks at the Latin American, tango and run-ins at Revolution, party shirts at Weston Wear, books at Dog Eared, friends everywhere.
To be fair, the list is even longer for the East Bay—about 12 years’ worth, give or take college and France—but something tells me if there were ever a time to cross the bridge, it’s getting to be right about now.
We’ll see.
polefaces, telegraph hillOctober 04, 2007
Lazybones
I admit it: Flickr is easier and faster than my photography blog, if nowhere near as satisfying. It's like the drive-through of photo sites.
But I seem to be extra busy this month, so please excuse my artistic sloth and take a look at some delightful pictures of my trip to the homestead and an assetful weekend in wine country.
Photo essays with real stories (made of actual words and thoughts) are forthcoming . . . any day now.
But I seem to be extra busy this month, so please excuse my artistic sloth and take a look at some delightful pictures of my trip to the homestead and an assetful weekend in wine country.
Photo essays with real stories (made of actual words and thoughts) are forthcoming . . . any day now.
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