So pleased with The Place She Dwells and the response from the audience last night. 125 seat theater was packed. Lucky that I was able to be a part of the team for that film. Hanging with Maurice Moore is always a party.
Now? Celebrations!
Btw: Luna is always curious how unlit cigars smell. She’s not a smoker… :)
No matter how much of a dork you think you were in high school, I bet you can't easily beat this photo of yours truly right after voting in the 1996 presidential election:
I kinda feel like I need to rock a smoking jacket like Esa Pekka Salonen:
No one wants to talk about death, but when musicians play music for people in hospice, you can’t deny how awesome that is:
Wayne Miles has not got the energy to open his eyes, but a faint smile flickers across his face as he silently mouths the words to the John Denver song Some Days Are Diamonds.
The 59-year-old Glasshouse Mountains man is dying from cancer, and amid the pain and grief music provides solace.
The former truck driver's love for country music is being nurtured by music therapist Tracie Wicks.
She sits with him at his bedside, strumming a guitar or playing the keyboard, and crooning Slim Dusty and John Denver songs that fill the dedicated music room in the Dove Palliative Care wing of the Caloundra Hospital.
Modular synthesizer enthusiast with physical disability hacks his arm prosthesis to control synthesizers with his mind:
This is so awesome:
Sudoku:
Gradus Ad Parnassum (counterpoint):
How many articles are out there on this one little acronym, SEO? I don’t know. All I do know is that I have a visceral response to these three letters; Almost immediately, I feel constipated.
My morning is incomplete without coffee. I choose my beans wisely, I use a burr grinder, I use an aeropress, and top it with organic whipping cream.
When I’m in a new town, trying to find my morning cup, I have a two simple rules to follow to assure that I get the best coffee possible. The first:
Beware of the coffee shop that offers 3 different prices of either lattes or cappuccinos.
I think this is Pareto’s Principle at work. When coffee shops limit themselves to making one single latte or cappuccino size, they get the ratio of espresso and milk correct, every time. Coffee shops that don’t do this are ones that haven’t dialed in the exact taste of the coffee they wish to present, or probably just don’t really care.
My second rule is this:
Beware any coffee shop if they have more food options than coffee options.
Again, they won’t be as focused on getting that ideal taste in coffee. They’ll have a lot of food options though, and maybe they are good. But the coffee? Nope. Probably not very good.
To me, just about all drip coffee tastes the same, so I always go for the smallest drip coffee at a coffee shop I’m wary of.
But, if you find yourself at a coffee shop that has just one size for a latte, cap, or cortado? Don’t be scared. They probably care a lot about making a tasty morning beverage. Get it! It’s most likely heavenly.
When my father died, my mom gave me his favorite pen: A Mont Blanc Meisterstück, issued by his employer for his dedicated work to the company.
Lemme tell you: This pen writes like a dream. I write about three pages of goop everyday (this habit works wonders for creativity), so I was surprised that the ink lasted for a year or so on the original refill. But, when it was gone, I had to replace it. Enter our villain: Monteverde refills for Mont Blanc.
I bought some Monteverde refills to keep the party going, and I was immediately taken by surprise about how hard I had to push down on the pen to make the ink flow. I was annoyed by how often the ink would stop flowing, mid word, but would pick up if I twirled the pen about 45 degrees. I often cursed out loud, about my writing utensil. Yeah, I went there.
I put up with this nonsense for three years without thinking there was an alternative. Eventually I got fed up and bought the real thing: Mont Blanc pen refills by Mont Blanc.
Within writing two sentences, my hand immediately relaxed into writing again. I’ve not had a single hand cramp in the past week. The sentences have flowed easier. My enjoyment of writing is back to its original state. The rollerball never loses traction, the sentences and words flow on.
What can I say? Though expensive, the refill for a pen matters. Or in other words: When you go Mont Blanc, you can never go back.
Ideas can be subversive, especially when I’m trying to fall asleep.
Source: Clockwork Music, Arthur WJD Ord-Hume, 1973
I love this little plant.
Since moving to the desert, I've found super interesting people to play with. Among them, Jim and Peter. Jim plays drums, Peter does tablas. We've done a bit of collaboration, and Jim just posted a couple of (really out there) tunes.
Jim Mccullough's excellent soundcloud is full of great Taos and desert inspired ambient fun musicscapes.
