You Promised Me 1000 Days

Technically I promised me 1000 days and you’re just along for the ride, but you’re right to be somewhat disappointed. I did ask for encouragement.

I read blogs that post daily and sub-daily (multi-daily?)– more than once a day. I suspect that these folks do so as sort of a mass email to all comers. A few hundred on the tornado last night, a paragraph or two on politics, a follow up to a follow up on SXSW, or just more pictures of their kids. I could do that but I’m not interesting enough for anyone to care (certainly not more than once a day). That’s why I invent the interesting stuff. I suck a little at that too.

Anyhow, I am re-turning over a new leaf again once more. Expect big…expect things.

This one doesn’t count.

Channeling Rowling

“Thus far this semester we’ve focused on magic as it applies to an individual.  Starting with various incandescents and aurals.  Then blessings, charms, and something else.  And finally, last week, with shields.  For the remainder of the course we’ll be looking at group magic.”  The room thrummed with excited talk.  The course catalog abstract promised an introduction to group magic.  The instructor’s syllabus scheduled it for the second Monday of November–today.  And the assigned reading from this past Friday explored the historical aspects if not the practical application.  It wasn’t a surprise, yet friends raised eyebrows and excited faces to friends, acquaintances turned to each other to nod, and the loner in the back said…

“Sweet.  This class rocks.”

“Thank-you Mr. Samuels.  It is sweet.  And this class does, indeed, rock.”  While the easy laughter died down.  Prof. Nonchal arranged a number of objects in a row on his demonstration table.

“Miss Callendill.  Would you please?”  He beckoned the smallish blonde girl to come forward.  While she stowed her notebook and pen he clipped the [magicometer sensor] to his lapel and flipped it on.  It boomed an almost physical tremor through the class and then self-adjusted to inaudibility.  All eyes went to the overhead display to make sure it calibrated to neutral.

“Good?”  Prof. Nonchal waited for a reply, “Good?”  Nods and other positive responses came.  “Thank-you.  I’ll run a quick baseline.”

The [magicometer] spiked and faded to a flatline when the professor light a candle.  It wavered sinusoidally when he made a golf ball spin.

Word count: 253
Day 196

First, You Remove the Brain

http://www.tford.info/reflective/

When I see illustration like this the first thing that comes to mind is that the artist had to slow down. Had to describe to himself what he was seeing. Had to listen to what he said. And then, and only then, used the description and not the vision to compose the result.

“Tell me what you see.” The recently stretched canvas demands in a tone that echoes my Mother’s when admonishing me to ask, “Please.”

I dip the brush into red and brush a circle.

“Oy! Again with what you thought you saw.”

Word count: 93
Day 195