“Experimenting with trebuchet reconstructions, just as other aspects of experimental archaeology, is essential to better understanding our past. The trebuchet is a rather complicated machine and thus its behaviour can be fully understood only through practical experience.”—Trebuchet - A Gravity-Operated Siege Engine
“When I left to take a non-copyediting position at another company, I sent an e-mail to some of the editors telling them to spell it [“douche bag”] however they wanted going forward. I no longer cared. Which was kind of the case to begin with. I never had a personal investment in that space between the words, but as part of my job, it was my duty to point out that it should exist. It was a job that suited my tendency to worry about details, but one that also forced me to engage in unexpectedly absurd conversations.”—
n. the dream versions of things in your life, which appear totally foreign but are still somehow yours—your anteschool, your antefriends, your antehome—all part of a parallel world whose gravitational pull raises your life’s emotional stakes, increasing the chances you’ll end up betting everything you have.
apropos the recent huffington post article designating my alma mater as the “trendiest quirky intellectual school,” i feel that rainy day for which i’d been squirreling away this quote has arrived. via austinkleon:
“I think that the fetishization of elite schools in American culture, the way in which they cultivate an image as brands, as imprimaturs of some scarce resource called ‘excellence,’ is sad and pathological, and profoundly anti-democratic. The truth … is that an intellectual life is available to almost anyone, almost anywhere, if they work hard enough and are given some kind of access point.”
disclaimer: i definitely don’t intend to start any sort of firestorm. i’m really focusing on the first half of row’s opinion much more than the second, considering the real world manifestation of this ‘access point’ is by no means a simple concept. and no, i don’t adhere to the ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps like donald trump or whoever’ mentality.
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald (via thekimenator)
after closing at work the previous evening, i biked downtown at 10:15am to see an optometrist (prescription’s gotten worse! go figure!).
biked home to find that the corpse flower was in bloom. in the two hours i had available, i found a friend 1/partner in crime, biked to seward, picked up a friend 2’s car, drove to como park, saw the corpse flower, took lots of pictures, rode the carousel, took lots of pictures, drove back to seward, biked back home in time to…
make it to coffee with friend 3 whom it’d been too long since i’d last seen. we jump hugged upon reuniting, which earned us three compliments/expressions of jealousy that their friends weren’t as cool. yeah.
biked to a friend 4’s house with the cutest freaking puppy on the planet, which we then walked to another friend 5’s house where i may have successfully persuaded friend 5 to adopt the dog, thereby letting me occasionally play with but not actually own it!
biked home, got ready for work at lightning speed, biked to work where i served tables until 2am.
biked to a long-procrastinated doctor’s appointment at 9:30am that provided several solutions to sleeping/allergies/skin, etc. productive but not fun.
biked home, picked up glasses prescription, biked to uptown where i purchased the coolest goddamn eye glasses on the planet.
biked to the new muddy waters for lunch with friends 1, 6, 7, and 8. yucca went in my belly, as did a tasty bibb salad with dates, all of which was washed down by a campari soda.
biked to hidden beach, ran into friends 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13. sunned. swam. shot the shit. judged people’s tattoos. (you know who you are, rasputin.)
biked home, stopping on the way at sebastian joe’s for a scoop of strawberry black pepper sorbet, where i took an accidental nap buck naked in front of a fan while sitting up.
awoke to a text from friend 1 that friend 14’s comedy show/competition was starting in a half hour, leaving me approximately 10 minutes total to shower and get out the door before biking downtown to the acme comedy club in time to see him take first place.
biked to work, checked my schedule, at a cheeseburger and tater tots, partook in a celebratory drink with victorious friend 14, and called it a night.