Signifying nothing

1: Santaphile When I was 10, I fervently held onto my belief in Santa Claus.  Of course I had my suspicions, as every child does, but I was ready and willing to rationalize those doubts for the sake of needing (yes needing) the fat man who doled out copious and extravagant gifts.  Yeah, my desire to believe in Santa was about the gifts and only the gifts—not about his self-effacing goodness or his desire to spread peace and love around the world. My belief in Santa, however, was smashed to bits the Christmas of my tenth year by, of all things, air hockey.  You see my oldest brother was 18 then and fervently wanted an air hockey table for Christmas.  This was the height of the air hockey craze in the 70s, that Eric D. Anderson touches upon to provide important in his excellent documentary Way of the Puck: A Documentary about Professional Air Hockey…Really .  In the mid 70s everyone wanted an air hockey table in the house…or so my brother convincingly argued e...

I walked past a dead deer today She lay bloated, back leg snapped, Near the busy collector route That takes commuters home to bed Her snout pointed skyward And her bulging black eyes Watched the endless flow Of traffic that took her Life

It is Burns Night. I chose a Burns poem that didn't require me to try to emulate (and therefore slaughter) a Scot's accent. On a side note:  my great great grandmother apparently didn't speak a word of English when she met my great great grandfather in Canada cerca 1840.  She was born in Argyll.

Carrie is Bigbrownhouse on flickr. You too can contribute to the Mobile Poetry collective....call the number over there -->.

So I have a new toy...a Bamboo tablet thinger.  I bought it on a whim as a self-given birthday gift, but I've been inspired to do it by Hightouch and Snyder, who have (apparently) made excellent use of similar (or the same) devices. After taking in the tutorial, I dived right into a program that has baffled me for years:  Adobe Illustrator.  While listening to the Jazz trounce the Nicks, I came to realize that Illustrator really is meant for devices like my new tablet.  I also realized that it really isn't all that different from many other Adobe programs I've used:  you just need to find what works for you and ignore everything else. Being that my drawing skills are suspect, at best, I decided to start with some word art: If you don't recognize it, this is a haiku by Basho--and a rather nice one at that.  I've never been a fan of my handwriting, but I actually wasn't bothered by this rendition. Still--with a program like Illustrator, I felt compell...

After many, many years ado, I finally can announce the world premier of The Mummy's Revenge , and epic filum of woe and intrigue developed over days in 2005.

all the cool kids play accordians Originally uploaded by bigbrownhouse From world traveler and flickr friend, Big Brown House (aka Carrie de Azevado-Poulson).

They Call It Haze Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner While the pollution that besets the Salt Lake valley every year creates some spectacular sunsets, it is still pollution non-the less. Because of the nature of the valley and our temperature inversions, we regularly get "Red Air Quality Days" and people are encouraged not to drive. The local TV media often tries to gussy up the problem by calling the pollution "haze." Ultimately we all bear responsibility for the problem and should act accordingly to lessen the impact of the smog days.

Look at me, getting all political! See this is why I am not allowed to take vacation time normally.

New Year Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner