At work yesterday there was a brief interlude in which I was privileged to experience a small taste of what may well be my ideal job: getting paid to restart my computer and talk crap with co-workers.
At least now I have a goal to aim for.
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-3-7) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, everpresent perils of life. — Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
(via valerie2776)
This is going to be weird, but here goes anyway.
When I saw this photo I flipped out. You could say it set a switch off in my brain. I went to Flickr, downloaded the photo, and put it straight onto my phone as desktop wallpaper.
(How crazy is it that telephones have desktop wallpaper now? And how long is it since “desktop wallpaper” was a completely meaningless concept? Living in the future is amazing.)
Now every time I go to use my phone it reminds me to be awesome and also makes me grin a big stupid grin. And all those split seconds of joy really add up over the course of a day.
There’s not really a conclusion here. I’m just happy.
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-2-28) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-2-21) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-2-14) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-2-7) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-1-31) -
Imported from Last.fm Tumblr by JoeLaz
I don’t understand why people are leaping about and crowing that Salinger’s work and/or mythos are overrated. Or maybe I do understand, and that’s why it makes me so sad.
He wrote things that people, including me, loved reading. Then he stopped, because that was what he wanted to do, and I like to imagine that that made him happy.
A Perfect Day for Bananafish and For Esmé, with Love and Squalor, in particular, packed the kind of gutpunch that leads me to flail around and use the word “perfect”. Thank you, J.D. Salinger.