Van Gogh & Gauguin

I came across this installation the other day. It takes a while to load and you have to have a flash viewer downloaded, but it is well worth the wait. Paintings and excerpts from letters of Van Gogh and Gauguin are presented side by side so that you can see the human element between two unique individuals who believed in the purpose of their life's work.

On some other notes:

I stayed in bed most of Wednesday and Thursday due to a cold. I've been miserable since and having to work the busy holiday season is not helping any. More on that later, except to say that I was disappointed not to spend Thanksgiving celebrating with my father and his friends, and with my friend Trent, who'd also invited me to visit. Nonetheless, I was feeling better after two days of rest.

I usually spend Thanksgiving evening with my group of friends whom I refer to affectionately as the brunchites. For the past several Thanksgivings John Pearce has been hosting them at his well appointed condo. This year introduced two new people to the mix, people John knew, Grace, a lady friend of his and Dorothy another friend As well, Purple Mark, myself, Carolyn and Nancy all attended. A good time was had by all.

John out did himself with the turkey and stuffing and cocktails. Carolyn made smashing potatoes, both Grace and Dorothy brought delicious salads, Purple brought his nearly famous chocolate and blackberry pie and I managed to purchase a couple of pies (pumpkin and pecan) from my favorite bakery, North Hill Bakery (next door to soon to be former City People�s Mercantile). All was well received.

While we ate, Nancy read from The Bluffer�s Guide to Opera. I wish I could remember everything that was read. Dorothy pulled some intriguing poetry out of her hat. Grace read some moving passages from Farley Mowatt. John read I don�t remember, Mark read I don�t remember. Carolyn, on the other hand read from a book that has intrigued me since she first mentioned it, Perdido Street Station by China Mieville. She gave Ray Clark a copy for his birthday this year and I�ve been thinking that one day I will have to read it soon if only to be inspired for writing my own novel.

Oh, and I read the first chapter of Teleny. My friend Jon Macy asked me to create a web site to show off his adaptation of the work and the link, although unfinished at the moment is just to show you what a little perseverance can do (don�t worry, although the work is pornographic the artwork shown is pretty tame, although it doesn�t look right if you are using Netscape). Everyone enjoyed the work and I rather enjoyed the reactions, besides reading such elaborate and exquisite filth aloud.

A co-worker yesterday painted this "Dali" mustache on me while we were repricing stock at City People for the imminent Closing Sale. There is a different picture of it on the index page.

Everyone at work was commenting on how dashing I looked and that I should seriously consider growing a mustache...really!

On another note, I designed some t-shirts for the Puget Sound NaNoWriMo group. You can buy them at these links:


Our special Puget Sound NaNoWriMo Monkey...



The colorful pen-toppling-needle!

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Something written in an email about last Saturday's adventures:

Have you ever had a dream where you are at a party and everyone is familiar and all the rooms are familiar and you know where everything is and everyone is friendly including the people in the hot tub and talking to you like you were the host of the party and you go around talking to people and introducing yourself as someone dead because your hands are cold and you know that you aren't the real host, but you could have easily been, especially when the person who is taking your place for the evening is a very tall boy in a wool sailor suit from Amsterdam (the boy not the suit), talking with a forced American accent and taking pictures of people whether they want them taken or not and when you get enough courage to go upstairs because you know the bar is there as well as the host, you stumble on the stairs because they are made annoyingly short and long and there at the top of the stairs is the host who gives you a big grin and kiss on the cheek and he is cheeky as ever and mentions there is absinthe at the bar, so you go in and meet a harlequin named �Pirouette� and she pours a green liquid into a black and white martini glass and sprinkles sugar into it and pronounces it the very best Czechoslovakian absinthe although you know that most Czechoslovakian absinthe is utter swill but it turns out to actually be very good absinthe, assuming you�ve tasted good absinthe before, and about this time the host comes back in and tells you to be very proud of him because he�s been sitting on a very large piece of flesh recently and you ask him if it was wrapped in wool and he looks at you as if you�re mad and promptly leaves and you make a side comment to someone standing next to you that you�d once introduced the host to his prostrate and that was the reason for the previous conversation and then you notice the time and realize you�ve been there for your full allotment and that you need to make appearances elsewhere so you make your goodbyes and as you are walking down the stairs you trip again because the steps are too long and short and then find Pirouette is taking you home?

�It�s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)� --Document 1987 R.E.M. Discography


The owners of City People�s Mercantile told the staff yesterday that they were closing the store. I really liked the job despite all my unhappiness regarding the contract negotiations. I thought the change in attitude was due to the World Trade Center attack. Now we get the real story and the fact of the matter is that to do anything worthwhile in the world you have to work your ass off, and even then you can�t be sure you will achieve what you�d like.

My only solace, in light of everything this week (Russell dying, being laid off after the holidays, etc.) is my writing and my art, things that are pretty insubstantial. But I will always have those abilities as long as I am not on my death bed. Both Gertrude Stein and Oscar Wilde said things on their deathbeds that have carved my life. Oscar said, �between me and the wallpaper, one of us has to go��Gertrude said something along the lines of �the answer to the meaning of life�what was the question?�

Douglas Adams gave us the answer many years ago: 42.

My Landlord left a message that Russell passed away this Sunday. I am very sad. I wish I could have remained close to him, there is some consolation that he is not suffering now. My sympathy goes out to all his family and those who would call him friend. His passing is all our loss.

I've hit a day of Writer's Block. I can't bring myself to write. This morning it seemed more important to vote and this evening it seemed more important to spend time online answering email. My horoscope warned me that I'd be feeling pretty emotional tonight. I feel like some spirit is trying to contact me. I need to go to bed.

Halloween at City People's Mercantile.

Snake charmer Halloween costume.

Writer's Block, Feature - Fall 2001

I'm planning on taking a few minutes and add to what I wrote this morning on "The Novel". But first I wanted to post this link to this article that I came across. Odd that written language is becoming such a big deal. What will we do in the future when there is no paper to write on?