Pastor decipher,
an ancient message. Listen.
Truth and lies creep through.
-
The Captain, Marco Reus 2019-20 German Bundesliga
Date: 9.28.19
Borussia Dortmund: 2
Mario Götze (9′) Marco Reus (41′)
Werder Bremen: 2
Milot Rashica (7′) Marco Friedl (55′)
VENUE: SIGNAL IDUNA PARK
-
Conversations with Tyler is my must listen podcast.
Tyler’s interviews have introduced me to disciplines I’d never consider exploring.
He speaks with urban planners, novelists, economists, tennis players, journalists, doctors – an incredible array of minds.
The final part of his interviews is called the Production Function. It’s where he asks his subject – What’s your productivity secret?
I found journalist Ross Douthat’s response helpful:
But there is a sense in which writing a column is — it’s like you’re a plumber. The toilet has to be fixed, so you fix the toilet. The column has to be written, so you write the column…
On approaching journalism with a tradesman’s mindset:
But journalism is a trade, right? I mean there is obviously an intellectual component. And we wouldn’t have been able to sit here and have this conversation with me babbling at you if I didn’t have intellectual pretensions. But the work of journalism — this is less true in the age of the internet — but it is linked to a very physical thing that comes out every week, or every month, or every day, and it comes out and it has to be filled.
And when there’s space to be filled, you write the column:
There is a place on the New York Times, on the printed New York Times, that would be blank or have an ad stuck on it if I didn’t write my column. And so you write the column. You write the column. And it’s useful for journalists to think about it this way — it’s useful for anyone inclined to over-romanticize or over-admire journalists to think about it this way.
On not sitting around waiting to become the next George R.R. Martin:
Certainly I like to imagine that — or at least something that sold as well as George R. R. Martin. But it also might be the case that if I had spent my life sitting around with my unfinished novels, I never would have produced anything interesting. And so it’s better to be a tradesman, and that’s at least part of how I think about my job.
Listen to the interview in its entirety here
Or read the transcript here
-
Summer’s neighbor knocks.
Pennant races, Charlie Brown.
Flannel season glows.
-
The Wright Bros were geniuses.
Flying is a miracle!
875,000 pounds careening through the air.
Dallas to Orlando in two hours.
Free Biscoff cookies and Sprite.
A miracle!
But flying still gives me the anxieties.
The recipe for peace?
- One short prayer
- One podcast with Ta-Nehisi Coates
- Two gin and tonics
- One sketchbook
- 1 Pilot B2P Pen
- 1 hour of life sketching
Works every time.
Tray tables up -
The Magic Kingdom is a city all it’s own.
Bridges rise and fall. Smooth, paved, concrete roads twist through the four Disney burroughs: Fantasyland, Frontierland, Tomorrowland, and Adventure land.
It has it own barber shop. It’s own Main Street. And the Walt Disney World railroad provides it’s citizens with a well run public transportation system.
Walt don’t play either. All trains run on schedule.
As with any vibrant city though, street art is everywhere.
Hand painted signs. Tiled tapestries. Sculptures.
Walt Disney’s love of art lives well beyond the animation table.
-
Enemies of envy,
tighten your grip.
Hold your tongue.
Don’t let it slip.
-
They stare at you like haunted paintings.
Faces that are easy to miss among the parents having breakdowns. The kids having breakdowns. The sweet Mickey Mouse eared treats, and brain twisting teacups.
But there they are, waiting to be noticed. Beautiful sculptures that set the atmosphere inside the Magic Kingdom.
I had to document the mystical eyes.
I needed to photograph the creepy skulls.
I wanted to remember the joyful smiles.
-
Wisps of childhood,
skip through palmetto bushes.
Memories flicker.
-
I stepped closer. I stepped further away.
I squinted.
There’s something here. This is not your standard, rusting, industrial trash-bin.
Look closer.
Ahhh. There it is.
It’s a shoreline.
A scorched shoreline at the edge of a prehistoric desert.
As my imagination flickered and spun, I could see it closer.
I could see the foam washing up against the red stone shore.
I could see the ocean water darken as the ocean floor falls deeper.
I could even see the pelicans swooping down, nose diving for their morning catch.
A wandering imagination is the back door to new worlds.
Go ahead and open it.
Floodlights and Goalposts 