It was just to be a photo of the multiple antenna dishes, with the prominent one looking, maybe at a different satellite, but then something happened: a bird on the only one that isn’t gray, leading to the tree in the background (it’s a redwood tree, and the shingles on the building seem to be redwood), and then the image in the window seems to be receiving all the signals and making a distorted image.  

I’m going to try this: write the novella in blog form. I have already written four drafts of “a novel” to figure out that I don’t produce enough words to fill enough pages to have value for book publishers in the traditional way. It’s November, nanowrimo month, and I already know that I don’t have it in me to fill the 50,000 words target. On the other hand, the people at WordPress just sent news about NaBloPoMo, and that sounds more like the kind of challenge I would like: write a blog post every day of November. It constitutes an even better challenge in that the style is going to be different: first of all, the length of each post is going to be such that you can read it on your commute (if you commute by public transportation, of course) or during your coffee break (or cigarette break, if anyone still does that). And the other thing that the blog form imposes: it will be first-person narration from the point of view of the …

I’m not sure this is the best way for me to keep writing. Writing on anything but paper, with anything but a comfortable fountain pen gliding over smooth paper, can be – how to say – awkward? There’s a disconnect. I keep thinking about the next word, the next thought, whereas I used to simply let the words flow to my hand. I feel that I’m saying the words in my head first, to decide whether or not they’re fit to print. It’s an interesting observation on this population of one, myself. What pen and paper do to me is similar to a shortcut, bypassing an area of the mind that judges whether or not the words are legible. It could be that I could write truly disposable morning pages, for that’s what I’ve been writing, pages that don’t matter, pages that I know will be or should be thrown away. How about bringing with me blank loose leaf paper, and a good pen? Then I could warm up, and switch to the keyboard for …

This will be my first attempt at blogging from the ipod, using a keyboard. Well, here we go, the plane is going to be late, as I expected from checking its performance for the past 14 days. You can do that now, on the internet. You enter your flight number and it gives you its current state, as well as its departure and arrival stats for days past. There I could see my flight was habitually late. Still I forgot to check this morning, as I rushed to catch BART. I had to run back, climbing 4 flights of stairs, to get a letter I had intended to mail but left in my bike bag. So is my travel life, never prepared. I could be the antithesis of a boy scout, letting myself ushered onto a flight, expecting everything will be alright. It usually is, that everything. Today I also left my fountain pen and paper notebook at home. It was an easy decision, as I had come to two pages off the end, and …

Solstice 2012 Elongated shadows on one side, our sun, warm on the bright side About to go to sleep in the privacy behind our earth Thank you, earth and water, air and fire, our gods improvised as creators issued from others themselves Thank you chaos, life, imperfect and infinite, the constantly renewed blooming, down west, up east… This fast moving planet rotates to another day, gently tilting the other way And we’re in for this great ride for as long as it keeps us on it.  

the problem is, I keep seeing the future happening… Can machines select the next book for you to read? In this view of the future, a book’s DNA can be compared to your “reader DNA,” and the bookseller – no longer a human but a machine automatically channeling books to you – is guaranteed growing sales forever. Read it all here on lindaleith.com  

I took this photo to illustrate Structuralism and Deconstruction, but this picture isn’t worth a thousand words. Still, it’s a cool picture. On the right, a solid structure, a pyramid made of pyramids. On the left, a mess. I find the left one interesting, because it opens my mind to fantasy. The pyramid is solid and reassuring, but it’s going nowhere else. Except that the pyramid could be a base to solidify the art.  

this one is about Liquake, the unique literary festival; spirituality vs. science; and going from Orwelian to Kafkaesque… here on lindaleith.com  

This is a comment about this post on lindaleith.com I’ve never been a fan of Tout le Monde en Parle, the talk show designed to squeeze its guests in a corner and confess their sins, for the few times I saw it on my friends or family’s TV set. They think it’s a good show, my friends and family. To me, it’s like being at a party where someone drunk insists on telling “the truth” about your uncle’s sex life. As it would certainly become the center of Quebecers’ attention for a few days, drawing comments from everyone, I initially refrained from adding my point of view. It would be among the minority, easily squashed by the brash voices that would be quick to blame the victim. Many people would resent the implied reproach that they need to be politically correct, or at the very least polite. I read La Honte, initially in admiration of her ability to write down her feelings. I learned that she had discussed with her agent why she should take …