tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54055900191794409802024-03-13T13:10:53.289-04:00natromusenatrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-63995782868861373512007-11-05T20:43:00.000-05:002007-11-06T13:22:51.842-05:00"we forget the sun, we forget the air"I'm still searching for the original author of this piece. It's part of a advertising campaign for a bookstore in Portugal that ran a few years back. The tagline, "If one page makes you think, imagine a book.""I know we get used to it. But we shouldn't.We get used to living in back door apartments and not having another view but the windows around. And because there is no view, sooner or later wenatrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-50691352354746151222007-10-23T17:30:00.002-04:002011-04-26T14:41:08.688-04:00wirelessThis post finds me at a coffee shop on Chicago Avenue in a non-descript part of town (i.e west of Western). There's something about coffee shop culture that is both interesting and monotonous at the same time. The Tuesday afternoon coffee shop crowd is comprised of the unemployed, the non traditionally employed, students, retirees and recent mothers with their babies. This assortment of humanity natrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-34541139703672520872007-10-19T18:30:00.000-04:002007-10-21T07:01:18.607-04:00the love of familyabuelita y yo, enero de 1978Last night I attended what is known as "The Love Party," held at my friend Shaun's house. Some dressed the part, others brought lovely foods, music and beverages. Good times were had by all that I spoke with (and probably by those who I neglected as well). On account of the fact that I'm friends with the organizer of said party, the idea of love was discussed natrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-10588981480972728282007-10-09T18:24:00.001-04:002007-11-07T11:11:08.858-05:00the mind is a chaos of delightNotes from my visit to the Darwin exhibit this morning. The Field Museum, Chicago, IL.On the thrill of observation:"The delight one experiences in such times bewilders the mind,-if the eye attempts to follow the flight of a gaudy butter-fly, it is arrested by some strange tree or fruit; if watching an insect one forgets it in the stranger flower it is crawling over. The mind is a chaos of delightnatrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-88946811823000232392007-10-03T20:42:00.000-04:002007-10-11T11:31:41.774-04:00my dinner with andreAbout a week ago, I decided to cross the cinematic threshold and finally watch "My Dinner With Andre." The idea of watching this film had been firmly planted in the back of my brain sometime in 1982, when my parents started talking about it and never really stopped. After that initial mention, references to the film seemed to creep in and out of our dinning room every 5 years or so. "It's just natrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-35350645013070630472007-10-02T23:59:00.000-04:002007-10-04T09:50:32.159-04:00gestaltPortrait of Fritz Perl by Otto Dix"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts," is how my high school psychology teacher, Mr. Poythress, defined gestalt on an ordinary day in 1995. Mr. Poythress was big on teaching us the things that really mattered. He always said that he knew we would ultimately forget almost everything we learned in high school, so he was quick to throw a lesson plan out natrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-5617198340845592962007-10-01T01:02:00.000-04:002007-10-09T20:11:37.867-04:00soggy shoesIt's Sunday night in Chicago and the rain unexpectedly pounds against my 3rd floor window. There's nothing I've found more beautiful or captivating in this city than the rain. There's a certain drama to it, the way it falls diagonally rather than straight down, the way the wind howls and the drops vary their beat depending on the distance traveled or the surface that breaks their fall. The way itnatrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5405590019179440980.post-52452506342524831712007-09-26T16:52:00.000-04:002007-10-03T03:00:34.773-04:00after the blog ageI've been around computers most of my life. When I was a kid, I remember my dad coming home with the 1st Atari. And then the Commodore 64. And then the 128. I became a wiz at Printshop and could throw around words like MS-DOS and dot matrix in casual discussions (still can).So, when I think of computers, I think of my dad. I remember him staying up well into the AM hours, working furiously to natrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15913546226743783618noreply@blogger.com0