Thursday, April 24, 2008

Way to ruin it

The physicist tells me that we live in a multiverse. Picture a filing cabinet, he says, thousands of sheets of paper always right next to one another but never, ever touching. Picture it on a galactic scale, a universal scale, an infinite scale--and keep right on picturing it, until there's nothing but sheets of paper, all in perfect rows.

"That's so cool," I say, eyes alight. "How do we get from one paper to another?"

"Oh, we don't," he replies, holding up a sheet. "Otherwise--" He crumples it and tosses it towards the trashcan.

Science ruins everything.

Monday, April 21, 2008

The Little Things

Jeremy’s day began with the utmost triumph: perfectly toasted toast. The bread, teetering on that oft-sought step between cooked and burnt, took butter and jelly in equal measure and crunch-squished between his teeth, every bite a testament to his culinary prowess.

Jeremy’s day continued with a lesser, though not inconsiderable victory: the shower was hot when he stepped in. The streams above his head, which so often yielded nothing but cold water thanks to Mr. Paulaski’s daily neverending bath, today lapped gentle and warm across his back. He scrubbed in peace, still proud of the toast.

Next was the drag of his favorite comb through his messy hair, which—normally uncooperative—yielded to each plastic stroke. He tilted his head, considered the calmed shock of black atop it in the mirror, and beamed. The crack in the center only slightly distorted his nose. Brushing his teeth and getting dressed and getting ready continued the trend of minor but not trivial successes, and it was with an unusual bounce in his step that he took the ten paces from his bathroom to his front door.

He nodded at the Collection, lining three walls of his studio at various wobbling heights. Monitors glowed, LEDs blinked, fans hummed, and a lone Apple logo blazed; all, it seemed, in cheerful response.

Jeremy relished the triumphs of the morning, grabbed his broken doorknob, and stepped outside ready to seize the day.

Judging by the wave of icy water a passing car immediately kicked up; the suddenly mussed hair soaking on top of his head; the muffling gray of the sky, and the flat tire on his Honda across the street, the day would do some seizing of its own.

He still had the toast.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Your Monthly Resurrection

I suck.

I'll hang my head and bow and scrape, but the truth of the matter is, I am just terrible at keeping a schedule without any pressure attached to it--especially when I have other things occupying my time, like a show or a trip to paradise.

I need to fix this, obviously, so it's time to start YDI up again. Expect great things in the future! Just, you know, don't necessarily expect them on time.

If anyone is still checking this: I missed you and I'm back.