Thursday, December 20, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Saturday's Exercise
It's desperately mushy out, and grey. A number of people are hunched over, shoulders turned inwards, chins tight into their chests. But that man (yes him, over there) is smiling and running on as if he's known that guy (yes, there), his entire life. He's chattering as if he were standing in the middle of a summery field, and all this were but a nasty flashback to being in Toronto.
"It wouldn't be so cold if it weren't nighttime", he giggles.
And then I notice his hands.
It's desperately mushy out, and grey. A number of people are hunched over, shoulders turned inwards, chins tight into their chests. But that man (yes him, over there) is smiling and running on as if he's known that guy (yes, there), his entire life. He's chattering as if he were standing in the middle of a summery field, and all this were but a nasty flashback to being in Toronto.
"It wouldn't be so cold if it weren't nighttime", he giggles.
And then I notice his hands.
Monday, December 17, 2007
What the Fucken is a Turducken?
It's what's for dinner.
Christmas dinner.
*MY* Christmas dinner.
Here. You must know what it is before we continue.
K. not entirely. But the reality is less cute. I'll spare you the imagery.
A Turducken is (in a nutshell, but not really): a chicken stuffed in a duck stuffed in turkey.
The Russian doll of roast birds!
See, previous to learning that my supermarket sells limited supplies for Christmas, the Turducken was a Unicorn-like phantasm. People told me they'd spotted it around town on menus, but then it conveniently disappeared. I suspect they lied for something entertaining to say.
Regardless, unless you happen to be braving exotic Suthern-stahl locales such as your Alabamas or Louisianas, it's a friggin hard novelty food to track down.
But now it's nearly within my grasp, and the only questions that remain: how will I make it? And, more pressingly: will I die in the attempt?
Until then...
A song about Turduckens.
It's what's for dinner.
Christmas dinner.
*MY* Christmas dinner.
Here. You must know what it is before we continue.
K. not entirely. But the reality is less cute. I'll spare you the imagery.
A Turducken is (in a nutshell, but not really): a chicken stuffed in a duck stuffed in turkey.
The Russian doll of roast birds!
See, previous to learning that my supermarket sells limited supplies for Christmas, the Turducken was a Unicorn-like phantasm. People told me they'd spotted it around town on menus, but then it conveniently disappeared. I suspect they lied for something entertaining to say.
Regardless, unless you happen to be braving exotic Suthern-stahl locales such as your Alabamas or Louisianas, it's a friggin hard novelty food to track down.
But now it's nearly within my grasp, and the only questions that remain: how will I make it? And, more pressingly: will I die in the attempt?
Until then...
A song about Turduckens.
Unintended for Children
A couple Saturdays ago I went to a great brainstorming course for to learn new ways of thinking. In the course of the..course...(guh)..we discussed the cyclical story approach: using the central focus of your brainstorm as a starting point, tell a story that eventually comes full circle. It's harder than it seems, and I've been playing around quite a bit with things I find on the street, people I know, and products I'm working on.
That's not the point, and you're now thinking "I don't care".
Right. So here's something to visually demonstrate it. I love this thing, for all its innocence and depravity. It's long, but watch it. Or I'll hunt you down.
A couple Saturdays ago I went to a great brainstorming course for to learn new ways of thinking. In the course of the..course...(guh)..we discussed the cyclical story approach: using the central focus of your brainstorm as a starting point, tell a story that eventually comes full circle. It's harder than it seems, and I've been playing around quite a bit with things I find on the street, people I know, and products I'm working on.
That's not the point, and you're now thinking "I don't care".
Right. So here's something to visually demonstrate it. I love this thing, for all its innocence and depravity. It's long, but watch it. Or I'll hunt you down.
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