Chris Doyle's Reasonably Clever.Com - Where our motto is "Hey! That's Reasonably Clever!"
Yes, a Lego Tarot... not actually for sale, but definitely cute.
In other news, I hate cleaning this place and our obnoxious, drunken, asshat neighbors need to just fall off of their balcony and die already.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
miaminewtimes.com | Myths Over Miami | 1997-06-05
miaminewtimes.com | Myths Over Miami | 1997-06-05
Wow... I remember the Bloody Mary story from when I was in elementary school. I remember being in the bathroom and the lights were dim, for some reason and one girl telling the rest of us the story, and we were all a little scared, but at the same time you wanted to say her name to prove she wouldn't come.... but what if she would? The mythos these kids have built up... it's amazing. I wonder if it's true.
Wow... I remember the Bloody Mary story from when I was in elementary school. I remember being in the bathroom and the lights were dim, for some reason and one girl telling the rest of us the story, and we were all a little scared, but at the same time you wanted to say her name to prove she wouldn't come.... but what if she would? The mythos these kids have built up... it's amazing. I wonder if it's true.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
so Tired
I'm tired. I don't know why. And I want to be creative right now and do some writing, but I ought to go to bed. And just who does this brain think is running this party anyways?
I have this great scene in my head for my novel, but I haven't set it to paper, yet. I know I ought to, just because. But I feel reluctant. I keep making excuses for my writing. And I suck! Ok, I know that's not -entirely- true. I just read Neverwhere by Gaiman. I shouldn't read when I'm trying to be a writer. It only makes me feel like crap. I know I won't measure up.
Jared and I walked into Schultzman's Department Store. It's an old place, the kind you associate with shopping trips with your grandmother, but they're realizing that grandmothers don't have the cash anymore, the granddaughters do, so they're trying to appeal to the demographic one step below me. The totally off putting thing about them doing this is that they don't want to offend the grandmothers. So there are some really hip clothes next to some clothes that are trying to be hip next to clothes you wear if you're the sort who fears breaking your hip. Did I mention the muzac? Oh, I will. I will.
Another little oddity about Schultzman's is the fact that they have a greeter. I don't think they call them greeters, but that's what they are. They are old people who have memorized the store layout and have the singular purpose in life to point you where you need to go, in case you've forgotten where things are in the store in which you presumably shop at a lot.
As we walked in the greeter got up off of his stool and amped up his smile for us.
"Welcome to Schultzman's. How can I make you happy today?"
Oh man. I had forgotten about that. I could see Jared's face light up. I stammered and tried to pull Jared away, but it was too late.
I later learned it took them 20 minutes to get the old guy to stop crying.
Wow, I did it. I've had that scene floating in my head long before I started writing this novel. In fact, that scene is why I started writing this novel. I feel better now that it's ... uhm on paper, so to speak. I know it needs tightening, but I don't care. I wrote it and that's good enough for me at this point. I also noticed something, just now. This Haley, the one narrating, is not the same Haley I've been writing. I guess I need to kickstart her into being her own. And now I think I really go to bed. But first I need to find my eye drops, cause goddammit I've got some itchy eyes right now.
I have this great scene in my head for my novel, but I haven't set it to paper, yet. I know I ought to, just because. But I feel reluctant. I keep making excuses for my writing. And I suck! Ok, I know that's not -entirely- true. I just read Neverwhere by Gaiman. I shouldn't read when I'm trying to be a writer. It only makes me feel like crap. I know I won't measure up.
Jared and I walked into Schultzman's Department Store. It's an old place, the kind you associate with shopping trips with your grandmother, but they're realizing that grandmothers don't have the cash anymore, the granddaughters do, so they're trying to appeal to the demographic one step below me. The totally off putting thing about them doing this is that they don't want to offend the grandmothers. So there are some really hip clothes next to some clothes that are trying to be hip next to clothes you wear if you're the sort who fears breaking your hip. Did I mention the muzac? Oh, I will. I will.
Another little oddity about Schultzman's is the fact that they have a greeter. I don't think they call them greeters, but that's what they are. They are old people who have memorized the store layout and have the singular purpose in life to point you where you need to go, in case you've forgotten where things are in the store in which you presumably shop at a lot.
As we walked in the greeter got up off of his stool and amped up his smile for us.
"Welcome to Schultzman's. How can I make you happy today?"
Oh man. I had forgotten about that. I could see Jared's face light up. I stammered and tried to pull Jared away, but it was too late.
I later learned it took them 20 minutes to get the old guy to stop crying.
Wow, I did it. I've had that scene floating in my head long before I started writing this novel. In fact, that scene is why I started writing this novel. I feel better now that it's ... uhm on paper, so to speak. I know it needs tightening, but I don't care. I wrote it and that's good enough for me at this point. I also noticed something, just now. This Haley, the one narrating, is not the same Haley I've been writing. I guess I need to kickstart her into being her own. And now I think I really go to bed. But first I need to find my eye drops, cause goddammit I've got some itchy eyes right now.
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