2011-04-05
2010-04-30
2010-02-02
Starbucks News
This just in: Starbucks is evil.
Case in point: When you log into Starbucks's wifi, you get a bunch of content on the login confirmation page. One of the panels is the news panel.
Check out the selection:
2010-01-12
arriving in Denver
Denver is a surprisingly quiet city. Cars do flow by, but they are more disperse than I'm used to (think NYC, Boston, Chicago) and nobody is honking. Walking down the streets of its downtown, threading past enormous skyscrapers, I can hear people talking on the other side of the street.
I'm pleasantly surprised to find that Starbucks gives me free wifi with my coffee. The weather is warm, suitable for any long sleeves, and the air smells sweet. I went from snow and the ever-present but never-reconcilable roar of millions of motors, to a warm, nice-smelling city with a breeze, bright sunlight, and practically no noise. Wonderful, and I soak it up.
Without any other real destination, I head to the Tattered Cover bookstore. It's pleasant. On the way, I don't see a single obese person. Not one. Looking at the largest woman I've seen all day, it's easy to imagine her rock climbing and biking and being entirely vegetarian. She's not fat; she's just got a stocky build like a lumberjack.
I do meet an incredibly pleasant man named Jason, who's holding a sign for a newly opened medical marijuana dispensary. I'm an out-of-towner? No problem, they'll still give me a license, it'll take five minutes. This is rare, but I have not the slightest desire to stop talking to him, nor any feeling that he expects me to stay.
What is this place? How did Denver, Colorado become a peaceful, quiet, pot-friendly, utopian city of the future? After the Tattered Cover, I hop on the free inner-city hybrid-powered rail system and I'm dropped off where my bus will pick me up.
How did they get the noise level down so low? It's as quiet as a church on a Thursday afternoon. Maybe the building code requires an acoustical engineer to ensure signals are scrambled? Maybe there are strict regulations on mufflers? Maybe anyone who honks is shot on the spot? In the 1990s, Denver had a pretty high murder rate if I remember correctly. Hard to believe now.
I'm pleasantly surprised to find that Starbucks gives me free wifi with my coffee. The weather is warm, suitable for any long sleeves, and the air smells sweet. I went from snow and the ever-present but never-reconcilable roar of millions of motors, to a warm, nice-smelling city with a breeze, bright sunlight, and practically no noise. Wonderful, and I soak it up.
Without any other real destination, I head to the Tattered Cover bookstore. It's pleasant. On the way, I don't see a single obese person. Not one. Looking at the largest woman I've seen all day, it's easy to imagine her rock climbing and biking and being entirely vegetarian. She's not fat; she's just got a stocky build like a lumberjack.
I do meet an incredibly pleasant man named Jason, who's holding a sign for a newly opened medical marijuana dispensary. I'm an out-of-towner? No problem, they'll still give me a license, it'll take five minutes. This is rare, but I have not the slightest desire to stop talking to him, nor any feeling that he expects me to stay.
What is this place? How did Denver, Colorado become a peaceful, quiet, pot-friendly, utopian city of the future? After the Tattered Cover, I hop on the free inner-city hybrid-powered rail system and I'm dropped off where my bus will pick me up.
How did they get the noise level down so low? It's as quiet as a church on a Thursday afternoon. Maybe the building code requires an acoustical engineer to ensure signals are scrambled? Maybe there are strict regulations on mufflers? Maybe anyone who honks is shot on the spot? In the 1990s, Denver had a pretty high murder rate if I remember correctly. Hard to believe now.
2009-12-29
It is somehow sad, how I can spend so much time in a daze and forget the World of beauty which is gleaming at me from every surface in every moment.
This is my first though after encountering that world. I am already back, though I did spend some time simply trying, and succeeding, in reconnecting. I could reconnect. I can reconnect. I did reconnect. To the pants on my leg, and the threads thereof, and the startling way they rippled and morphed as I shifted my leg.
Logic would say this is a joyous thing. But I was overwhelmed with sadness that I had spent so much time not taking advantage. Not drinking. Even now, I am sad to know that I can slip back, will slip back. I want to be with those who know this beauty.
I am a tiny droid, scurrying in the heart of a Mothership. My instructions are to connect this wire here, to pipe fuel this way, to initiate and power the boot sequence of I-know-not-what. It is within my capacity to carry out these instructions ... that is why they have been given to me.
I seem to remember these moments get longer if I meditate more. So I will meditate more.
This is my first though after encountering that world. I am already back, though I did spend some time simply trying, and succeeding, in reconnecting. I could reconnect. I can reconnect. I did reconnect. To the pants on my leg, and the threads thereof, and the startling way they rippled and morphed as I shifted my leg.
Logic would say this is a joyous thing. But I was overwhelmed with sadness that I had spent so much time not taking advantage. Not drinking. Even now, I am sad to know that I can slip back, will slip back. I want to be with those who know this beauty.
I am a tiny droid, scurrying in the heart of a Mothership. My instructions are to connect this wire here, to pipe fuel this way, to initiate and power the boot sequence of I-know-not-what. It is within my capacity to carry out these instructions ... that is why they have been given to me.
I seem to remember these moments get longer if I meditate more. So I will meditate more.
2009-11-21
2009-11-19
A paper on dancing and libertarian hippies in Hawaii:
Dancing my true dance: reflections on learning to express
myself through ecstatic dance in Hawai‘i
By Lucy Pickering
Man, I haven't really danced myself into oblivion in a while. I almost forgot what it's like. I really, really love this author's ability to bring in a reminder of what that sensation is, by speaking to my intellect (not as good as doing it, but hey).
Dancing my true dance: reflections on learning to express
myself through ecstatic dance in Hawai‘i
By Lucy Pickering
Man, I haven't really danced myself into oblivion in a while. I almost forgot what it's like. I really, really love this author's ability to bring in a reminder of what that sensation is, by speaking to my intellect (not as good as doing it, but hey).
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