Friday, February 20, 2009
Future of Maps, Almanacs, and Coffee-Tables
...nothing else to add except that not only will space be mapped out and at your fingertips, but also time. You'll be able from now on to map and view the variations in cities, landscapes, and secret military hide-outs over time.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Back to 1984
Welcome to 1984 people. For the rest of your life, you will be fully trackable at all times by whoever has the power and inclination to do so. You don't have to have GPS. You only have to be on a cellphone, Ipod, computer or most anything connected wireless.
Better yet, you can do the same thing to others. Initially this is limited to those giving permission, but it won't be a matter of days before people have hacked all over this technology.
Welcome to the future.
We know where you are.
Better yet, you can do the same thing to others. Initially this is limited to those giving permission, but it won't be a matter of days before people have hacked all over this technology.
Welcome to the future.
We know where you are.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Just a Closer Walk with Thee
For my 200th post on American Kitchen I figured I best re-commit my life to God. I called but couldn't get through so I did the next best thing and got ordained as a minister.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Life is Gritty and Great.
I thought 'The Wrestler' was gritty - even great. I watched it at the downtown Alamo Draft House on my 51st birthday with my wife, daughter, a friend, bbq wings, pizza, and a pitcher of beer. So, there's lots of personal nostalgic and environmental settings factored in. At one point, I deemed it the best movie I've ever seen. I loved the simplicity. (My new tat by the way is - "Simplicity.") I loved the brutal honesty and the behind the scene rawness of love, comraderie, and pain. All endured for the glory - that is even itself - so shallow and temporary. It was existential and cathartic for me. I shed more than one tear. See it on a big screen, with beer if possible.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Praise song for the day.
[Inaguration poem for Obama by Elizabeth Alexander - read aloud Jan. 20, 2009]
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
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