My Horoscope Today

"...don't be so quick to negate your desires for the sake of the community."


It's like they know I'm a woman or something.

Why Publish When You Can Just Twitter?

What's all that tweeting you hear? Oh, just the sounds of my fifteen minutes of fame getting used up. I'm not complaining. The following is proof that Twitter truly is the most powerful benevolent de-centralized (human-made) force in the universe.
It goes like this...

In August, Ian and I start working on a paper about Joss Whedon's series Firefly, to submit to the Whedon panel at the Southwest/Texas American & Popular Culture Association's Annual Conference. Then we write it. Then we go to the conference. We have a great time, we email the paper to a couple people we meet there. We talk about editing it so we can submit it for publication somewhere like the Journal of Religion and Popular Culture. But the re-formatting alone would take major thought, and Kj's still only halfway through a crazy spring term. So we hold onto the paper with an ellipses as to what to do with it next.But in July (last Monday to be exact), we re-deliver our paper presentation along with a film screening at MHGS. Josué suggests we include a write up about the event for the new Experience MHGS website. He goes ahead and makes a paper link in case someone wants to read it. I think, "That's awfully nice, but who that's investigating MHGS is gonna read a 35 page paper about fundamentalism and a cancelled TV show?"

But I go ahead and tweet the link to the EMHGS site.
Then this happens. My initial tweet is way down there on the bottom, then next thing you know, It's on Whedonesque, the ultimate Whedonverse hub for both fandom and academia. So within a few hours, it went from living in my docs file to being accessible to every hardcore Whedon fan on the planet. By the time I got out of bed, it already had a comment stream 30 posts long.

So no more wondering who our audience is for this thing. It's out there. They're reading it, and they're already debating everything from the specifics of taking holy orders, to mind-reading to biblical innerancy, (not to mention finding all our typos).

Oh mighty Twitter. Thanks for getting us out there. You put a skip in my step all day. Tweet tweet tweet.

Tonight!!!

Feel free to show up with your dinner in hand. Tonight will be well structured, but casual. (Meaning we have a very small snack budget)

Hope you can come! Should be done around 8pm.

Of Burning Bushes

"But for me,...God sits by fires rather than in them."

Joshua Longbrake

I'm A Twit

Conversion, Atonement, and Spaceships

Now that Ian and I are done with the conference and the seven months of research and writing (not including the work we'll do eventually to make it journal-submission ready), we're finally getting our paper out to people- hoping to generate dialogue beyond our half hour at the conference panel.

One of the paper presenters at the Religion panel did an investigation of the origins of religion as expressed in Sci Fi/Fantasy literature. She and I had a teeny bit of chat time while out to dinner with other Religion panelists (Ian and I accepted the invitation to head out with the religion folk, and for whatever reason, didn't end up socializing much with the Sci Fi bunch), and she mentioned work she's doing on representations of Christianity in Sci Fi. I asked if I could send her our paper, since that's totally what ours is about. I'm excited that Dr. Davis is excited about our work, and look forward to hearing more of her perspective.

If you want to join the conversation (ie: read our 35 page paper), let me know.

Also a highlight of that dinner was hanging out with Dr. Wes Bergen, the only person I've ever heard of to have published a book on Leviticus and popular/postmodern culture. Gotta love it!

The "Arcade Philosopher Scarf" For...

Name: Scott Small

Location: Seattle

Occupation: Graduate Student

Place I Think of as Home: Anywhere here in the Emerald City.

The Worst Movie I've Ever Seen is: The Fighting Temptations. I try to be gracious about films I don't like, only this one failed on every level, but without the usual bad movie charm.

When I Think Of Beauty, I Think of: The way the smell of baking cookies reminds me that I'm home and that I'm loved. The feeling I get when the lights go down at a movie theater. The way my friend Rob speaks of his daughters. A well told story. The belly laughter that can only happen when we know we belong. The crack of a bat when the ball hits that perfect spot. Good drinks and long conversations... I could go on like this for a really long time.

If I Had to Choose Between Theology and Baseball, I'd: Probably just explode.

Were it Not For My Wife, I'd Know Nothing About: The reality that cooking is like art, and baking is like science.

Please Don't Ever Ask Me to: Sing a solo in public.

I'd Love a Chance to: Write for a living.

Something I'd Like to Say: I'd like to say I know what my talents are and where I am headed. I'd like to say that, but I can't yet.

Kj and I: Are probably seen by some to be overly passionate about mundane things. What they don't realize is that we just so happen to be exactly as passionate as one should be.

Making the Scarf: When I submitted a "Kj will make a scarf for you" option to our school's annual art auction, I was a little nervous that I'd be interpreting a scarf for someone I'd never met. How stoked was I then, when I heard that I was gonna get to scarf the awesome and increasingly impressive Scott Small! Last year I took a selected readings course on theology and emerging network theories in science and evolution, and after the second week, I remember walking out and saying to someone, "Um, so is Scott Small a super genius?" They assented.

Ever since, I've enjoyed every conversation I've had with him- I always feel smarter afterwards, as well as in a better mood than before. Which is the only reason I can come up with to explain why when I heard I'd be making a scarf for Scott that I immediately had the name "Arcade Philospher" come into to my mind. Not that I've ever seen Scott play Asteroids, Pac Man, or Halo for that matter, but there's something about Scott that makes me picture him holding a soft drink and slice of pizza at the edge of a pinball machine while discussing ecclesiology and fractals. Thus, his scarf was inspired by the colors of Atari, mixed with "deeper" colors as well. I tried twice to punch it with a bright yellow or lime green, like a digital laser gun, but in the end, it wanted to stay cool and dark. (I didn't know it would match so well with an Obama T-Shirt!)

And as you can see from the above interview, Scott has a point of view that both inspires, enlightens and welcomes you as you listen. I can't wait to go to his first book signing.

Jupiter, Father Christmas and Mr. Tumnus = BFFs!

Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C. S. Lewis by Michael Ward

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars

As a work of literary criticism, Michael Ward has succeeded in CS Lewis' footsteps, exploring intellectual and theological insights while managing continually to ignite the reader's imagination. In what will likely be a key text in Lewis scholarship from now on, Ward makes a detailed and convincing argument that Lewis wrote the Narnia septet through the lens of medieval cosmology, using the imagery, language and symbolism associated with each planet, (which includes the sun and moon at that time) to shape the world of each Narnia book, as well as the unique Christological message in each story. Without wanting to give too much away, I'll quote Ward's excellent summary towards the end of the book that acknowledges the main themes in each book and planetary character:

"Thus, in "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" they become monarchs under sovereign Jove; in "Prince Caspian" they harden under strong Mars; in "The Dawn Treader" they drink light under searching Sol; in "The Silver Chair" they learn obedience under subordinate Luna; in "The Horse and His Boy" they come to love poetry under eloquent Mercury; in "The Magician's Nephew" they gain life-giving fruit under fertile Venus; and in "The Last Battle" they suffer and die under chilling Saturn." p.237

This new perspective on the Narniad, and indeed on Lewis himself, re-ignited my hope for contemporary integration of theology, astronomy and cosmology, as well as totally convincing me that I need to move to England to study Medieval poetics and cosmology. I love books about books!

View all my reviews.

I Think Paper Titles are My True Medium

All my official school work of 2008 is done. I was trying to remember how many gigantic papers I'd written this year and had to look them up in order to remember. Here's the taster's choice version. I think my titles are longer than most people's thesis paragraphs.

*********************
The Princess and the Judge:
Rediscovering the Characters in the Book of Ruth Through Traditional Jewish Interpretation

*********************

The Heavens Declare:
Looking Closer at Creation
to Gain a Bigger Picture of the Creator
A movement towards theological and scientific inquiry
of our created context… for the glory of God

*********************

Impressions of an Either/Or Church Upbringing
(Church of Origin)

*********************

“Queen Bitch” Theology:
What Movie Soundtracks Offer That
The Church Does Not
(Church of Future)

*********************

The Woman Buried Under the Words:
The Story of the First Female Apostle and How She Was Erased From Scripture

*********************
‘Formed For Labour, Not For Love’:
19th and 20th Century Women Authors
Critique the Evangelical Dualism of
Punishing the Body to Save The Soul

*********************
Remembering Together, Not Reading Alone:
The Oral and Aural Gospel of Mark

*********************

I don't know which I enjoy more, coming up with titles, or making lists of them. I have no social life, by the way.

Things that Go Beep in the Night (and other Mysteries)

We're in the middle of the 50th anniversary of the launching of Sputnik, the first man-made satellite. It's got me thinking a lot about what we're used to: seeing man-made things moving in the sky, and things we're not used to: being contained in a very small space while being launched into orbit.

I've heard accounts from people who stared out at the sky watching Sputnik 1 blink across the night, and how terrifying and awe-inspiring it was: "That thing up there is from here..."

And I've gotten so used to seeing things in the sky that are from down here. My apartment in Brooklyn was along the flightpath to JFK, and though we were far enough to never really hear the planes, if you sat on the side of the sofa next to the lamp, you were in direct line with the flightpath and could see green and white dots cross the kitchen window aout every fifteen minutes. They were more frequent than the bus that stopped in front of our building.

But I remember when I flew out to visit Bennington for Accepted Students weekend as a senior in high school, and I was reading "Jane Eyre" for the first time (and identifying with it maybe too deeply), and for some reason, flying back home, I was struck by the fact that I was seeing the earth from a vantage point that such an infinitesimal percent of human beings in the history of the human race had ever seen it. Planes had been around for less than a century, and commercial flights are even younger. Compare that with the number of human beings that have walked the earth. Who are we that we get to see earth from 30,000 feet? My exact thought was "Charlotte Bronte never flew in a plane..." (An early taste of my constant revelations of the obvious, with which many of you may be familiar).

And thinking about Sputnik, got me of course, thinking about Laika, the first creature from Earth ever launched into space. She was a dog, and it took decades for scientists to reveal that she did not in fact die a week or so into orbit, but rather, within hours of the launch. This was probably due to malfuncitons of the heating control system, but either way, this dog must have been very confused. It went from wandering the streets of Moscow as a stray, to being strapped into a harness, locked into a little metal cone, then thrust at great force into who-knows-where, with only the sound of her breathing to keep her company. I probably would've died a few hours after launch also, if I didn't know that all of this was so I could float above the Earth (that, I would stay alive for).

But this issue of small-space-containment, brought me to thinking of another odd creature that I came across in college. It was before this person and I became friends, that I walked into the Commons buidling, and there, at the bottom of the stairs to the dining hall, was a large (but not tall) constructed crate of-sorts, with drawers, video cameras, electrical cords, and a person inside. This person was Garth Silberstein. My memores of this event are quite foggy, and I wouldn't mind some clarification, such as "why did this happen?" but as a freshman at Bennington, I'd already earned not to ask "why?" too loudly, and rather, just to trust that this meant something (to someone). But I recall that we could watch a video feed of this man squished into a very small space, and we had the option of giving him food through slots, or writing notes to him, but he was wearing a blindfold of some kind and earphones with white noise playing, so that he'd have no sense of what was going on around him. Little did I know that the man in the box, would be one of my most beloved people on the planet within a year or so. But at that time, I just thought "why would anyone subject himself to being on display, in a box with no space to move, and no way to interact with all the people staring at you?

But why do we do anything? Why did we send a dog into space? Why do I ignore the things flying over my head? All these things, including Garth-in-a-box, serve to remind me that once in a while, it's important to remember that you are a body that breathes, and that needs space (inner and outer). And Russian Christmas ornaments in the sky, dogs dying above the earth, and men exploring their endrance and discomfort limits out of sheer curiosity and art, all go to remind me that life is worth living with mouth agape.

I know what it means, but what does it mean?

My favorite part of the schoolyear is the purchasing of new books time. Not just because I get to buy me some books and look at how great they look on my various shelves, but because, without exception, afer I do the big order on amazon or half.com for the bulk of my new books, there always seems to be one more book added to the courselist at the last minute. This "extra" book affords me the chance to justify buying myself a movie from my wishlist, in order to qualify for free shipping. Now, we can debate the wisdom of spending $10-14 dollars in order to save $4.83 in shipping, but I'd prefer to live in denial and keep building my collection.

So, the winner for this fall, with the sudden need to purchase the essay compilation Essentials of Christian Theology, is Nicole Holofcener's most recent film Friends with Money. It was one of my top four of 2006, but it had been so long since I'd seen it, I got it last week from the Seattle Library to confirm my feelings before purchasing. And again, I was blown away by the insight and subtle realities of human interraction the film portrays. And even though it's a film that makes you feel sorry for rich, white people, if you think about it, that's pretty impressive. This film kind of rips my heart in a good, sardonic, sad but ultimately hopeful way, and lately, that's my favorite kind of story to be immersed in.

Well, the other best part of buying books/movies, is the placing of a new DVD in its rightful spot on my DVD shelf. Since I organize my DVDs by distribution company, I always notice copyright info and stuff. Well, as I nudged "Friends With Money" between my other Sony Pictures Classics releases "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and "Persuasion", I noticed some very non-sequitor text on the bottom of the box which reads:

"2006 Sony Pictures Clasics, Inc. for the Universe excluding Australia/NZ and Scandinavia (but including Iceland). All rights reserved."

I like knowing that my movie is meant for the whole Universe, but that aussies, kiwis, and flinginbjorgens can't watch it. So glad to see Iceland finally be included in something, though. I love Iceland!

(previous free shipping movie purchase winners include: Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola, Sideways by Alexander Payne and The Remains of the Day by James Ivory)

When the Moon hits your eye...Try to hit it right back!

It's not fair.
The full moon was last night.
There is no reason for me not to be able to sleep right now.
I was even a good girl and climbed into bed before 1am.
That never happens.
And here I am, over an hour later, having had to crawl down the ladder from my loft bed, because there's just no kidding anyone: I cannot sleep.

New moons and full moons tend to screw me up pretty badly, but for most of 2007, I've been so mentally, physically or emotionally exhausted, that I guess I've been able to sleep through crazy moon nights pretty well.
So why tonight, when the moon is only 98% full, am I sitting here typing instead of dreaming about bald eagles, swimming pools and the various B-list celebrities that regularly pop up in my unconcious wanderings?

But the moon last night was definately one for the record books. It may actualy have been the most beautiful moon I've ever seen. Around 10:45, when I was walking home from the bus, it was following me behind some evergreens, and it was glowing yellow- or at least a warm shade of papryus. Once i was at my cul de sac, I had a clear view. The sky was clear except a few linear wisps of cloud below the moon, which were lit up by reflection. It was one of those moons where you sort of expect it to start talking to you. You feel like it's just you and the moon. It's standing right there, you looking at it, it looking at you, and you kind of have to just say "Hey" because it would be rude to not to.

Well, last night I loved that moon.
Tonight, I'm very perturbed by it, if it is indeed the same moon. This moon says, "Hey, I know you're trying to sleep, but instead, why don't you lay awake, and be unavoidably aware of every twig snap on trees outside, every footfall of wild, wandering neighborhood cats, and every toss or turn of your roomates in the other rooms, and how about when you try to think of nice things as you try to fall asleep, you'll only be able to remember and rehash frustrating moments of your life that you can't seem to get away from. How about you do that instead of sleep? Sounds great, right?

Okay, I guess I'm done venting. Funny that I never really use this blog to vent, and the first time I do, it's to passive-aggressively insult the moon.

Extra: This blog entry from March feels very apropos right now. In more ways than one.

Seven Days and Counting...

It's strange that we mark things by year. I mean, I understand the whole 365 days (give or take) based on the earth orbiting the sun, etc, but when we say "Wow, I can't believe a year has passed" what do we mean? Can you feel 365 days? How do we know how long a year should feel like? Are we shocked that the earth has travelled around the sun since the last time it was June 28? Why don't we seem to notice the passage of time when it's been four and a half months or two and a quarter years since one's wedding or move to Nebraska? Yes, we may take note, but we don't have that calender reminder that says "Take note: a year has passed and you should take stock of your life since then" etc.

I bring this up, because I've definatley been thinking a lot since June 22, about what was going on this time last year. (Quick catch up for any newcomers: I was living in New York, had been accepted to Mars Hill Graduate School for the fall and was going to move to Seattle at the end of August, but instead, I was hospitalized for ten days for severe pneumonia and had to live with my parents in Arizona for two months while I recovered-learned to breathe and walk again- before moving up to Seattle at the original time planned). There was so much that happened during my hospitalization, so much time I was alone, seven days in the ICU with no TV, nothing on the walls and no way to fall asleep at night amidst endless rounds of blood tests and X-rays that never abated till morning, so many thoughts and experiences that I didn't talk about when people would show up to be with me the next morning, mostly because the last thing I wanted to talk about in the morning was the night before which had been spent solely counting the hours until Kim would walk through the door and bring familiar faces and voices to visit me. Well, in all that time of locking away memories, I just assumed that once I got to Arizona and had some time to process, or certainly once I got to Mars Hill and had to start walking through the story of my life and being counselled, etc, that I would re-examine, explore, give voice to and grieve over everything that experience was. Then "suddenly", I find that a year has passed, and I've barely shared any of that experience with anyone, much less looked at it myself.

Well, I'm not going to write out all the hours of the night that I stored up for those ten days of being in the hospital and realizing that, without any warning, I would never be returning to my work, my life in New York, or staying more than one last night in my apartment or neighborhood with my loved ones, but now, as each day ticks down to July 2, when I was released from the hospital, only to fly to Arizona the next morning, I've been trying to let my mind go back to some of those places. I want to put a few down, in hopes that I'll be able to face more of it on my own and not let another year pass without pausing to really look at what I came through/was brought through/survived. So here's a little bit.

1) Niegel came the first or second day that I was in the ICU, and I think he noticed that there was nothing on the walls in front of my bed except an empty bulletin board, so, on the back of what I later discovered to be a discarded title page of a script he was working on, he wrote "Kj is a Ray of Sunshine" and drew a little sun/cloud doodle and stuck it on the bulletin board. The wierd part is that all that night, (at this point I was being given sleeping pills at night, but having my sleep interrupted more than once an hour for blood tests and things, so I was really, really delirious and exhausted) I stared at that note which I could hardly see being that it was night and I wasn't wearing my glasses, and I stared at it to the point that it actually started to look like a full-color Italian oil painting that had a window sill looking out over a seascape with sailboats heading out to the sunset. The next morning, I looked at the simple pencil note and wondered what the heck they had put me on.

2) After seven days in the Intensive Care Unit, 36 hours of which I had been being promised to be moved out, they finally secured a bed for me out of the ICU. (Albeit, the only space left in the whole hopsital was in a 3 person room in the Geriatric Ward: yes, I was in the Geriatric ward with roommates Rose and Mary). So they brought a wheelchair, and I got into it and they moved me into the hall, but we stopped right in front of the door for a moment for someone to get something, and at that moment, I burst into tears, realziing that I hadn't been out of that room in a whole week. It felt so strange. frightening and relieveing to move past that doorway- to leave that room behind. Then, being rolled in the wheelchair, being overcome by the sensation of more movement than I'd experienced in seven days, seeing people and doorways and windows, I just couldn't believe how isolated I had been. That was a crazy, crazy feeling.

3) A good-ish memory: By my second morning being out of the ICU and being in the normal (though geriatric) portion of the hospital, I'd been given permission and encouragement to try taking brief walks down the hallway, which of course involved rolling an IV pole along wherever I went. Well, since they still kept me up all night with tests and IV changes, I found myself wide awake at about five in the morning when the sun was coming up, and decided to go for my first walk. Woodhull Hospital had been originally designed to be a prison (no pun intended), so it had these endless, like serioulsy quarter-of-a-mile long hallways, with windows looking out over Brooklyn. So I unplugged my little leg-circulation things that looked like moonboots for galactic Tokyo cheerleaders, and wheeled my IV pole around the bed and headed out the door of my room and went around to the endless hallway which was completley quiet and empty except for all the new morning sunlight, and I walked slower than any Grandma has ever walked, step by step down the hallway, going as far as I could until my breathing got laboured and it seemed like a good turnback point. It was the first time that being alone there felt peaceful, and felt like a choice.

So that's a few places I've found myself going in my head. Don't know if I'll put more on here, but until July 2, I'll still be trying to navigate this strange passage of ten days that happened 365 or so days ago.

Lanscape of Numbers

Some few of you may recall my March posting about Daniel Tammet, the high-functioning autistic savant who visualizes numbers by color and shape- and memoriezed Pi up to 22,514 digits. Well, at last, here is his water color rendering of how he sees the number Pi in his mind.



I hope my kids will paint numbers, instead of painting by numbers.

You can read more about Tammet on his blog in my Links section, and also read more about how I feel about him in my March post "The Color of Numbers"

Sure on This Shining Night

I've been looking for a decent recording of Samuel Barber's setting of James Agee's poem "Sure on this Shining Night", and God bless Itunes, I just found the most obscure and spectacular version ever. The song is sort of standard fare for many vocal recitals and boring choir concerts, so it's hard to find a recording that captures the intimacy and the vastness inherant in a poem and song which, to me, has always been about looking at the stars alone, feeling connected, then feeling even more alone in the universe. That's kind of just my take. I think it's about love too. Isn't most good poetry about love?

Anyway, the version I found is by Norwegian artist Elg (that's a guy). I really wish I could put the whole song on here somehow, but that's beyond my ability, so I've included a clip. It's a bit awkward to have a clip in the midst of the song, so you should probably just come over to my house and I'll play it for you. (That's Van Gogh up there, "Starry Night over the Rhone" 1888)

First, James Agee's poem:

Sure on this shining night
Of starmade shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.

The late year lies down the north
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.

Hearts all whole
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far alone
Of shadows on the stars.


The clip is where, in the song, he sings
All is healed, all is health, High Summer holds the earth. It's my favorite part, but you really need what comes before and what comes after. I just love the gut this guy sings with, and there's also a real sense of reaching: reaching out towards the night, towards the stars, towards someone who isn't there.


"I Weep For Wonder Wand'ring Far Alone"

The Color of Numbers

I Heart Savants...

So I just learned about Daniel Tammet, a young Brittish savant who, unlike most number geniuses, is fully functional despite some genius compulsion issues. But besides the fact that Tammet succesfully memorized and recounted Pi to 22,514 digits, and spoke it aloud in only five hours, or the fact that he succesfully learned to speak Icelandic in only 7 days, here is what truly has me in awe of Daniel Tammet, in his words:

"I see numbers in my head as colors and textures, so when I see a long sequence [of numbers], the sequence forms landscapes in my mind."

He sees numbers as richly-colored landscapes! This is AWE-ing to me! When he calculates or memorizes numbers, its not a matter of him scanning over the memory of computer-print-out numerals, its an orangebluegreenpurpleyellow bumpysharpbillowingtoweringsloping vista. WOW. He actually has unique colored images that he sees in his mind for each number up to 10,000. I can't locate an image online, but on 60 Minutes, they showed his water color rendering of how he sees Pi.

How would our world change, if we raised our kids to Imagine Pi? To Imagine numbers? When I told my roomate Carrie about Tammett, she was equally awed, and expressed her desire to see things his way because she sees the world with so much color, but numbers have always been black to her. Isn't this so true?

It made me wonder about the numeric system we currently use that seems pretty universal (well, planet Earth, anyway) and how is it that for the most part, no matter where you go on Earth, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 mean the same thing. (I would have said 2 means two but 2 does not mean "two" wherever you go. "dos" "due" "do" "deux" "zwei" etc).

So I did some searching. This will not be news to some of you, but the numeric symbols we use are commonly referred to as Arabic Numerals, and originated in India somewhere around 400 BC. If you want to learn more, I suggest Wikipedia's article on Arabic Numerals, to get the history of how the written number morphed into what we have now. It's one of those "China Below Us-Constant Revelations of the Obvious" things that I never thought about again after kindergarten. You know, like the Blue Whale? I also recommend Wikipedia's short article on Daniel Tammet. Golly, I wish I could figure out how to make direct links in here. Anyone want to tell me how? If you want to see some Tammet interviews, and his rendering of Pi, just google his name, along with "60 minutes" and you'll get some pretty good stuff.

Besides my mind being blown by the idea of colored number landscapes, I was really touched when I learned that Tammet tends to avoid beaches because of feeling the compulsion to count the grains of sand. Isn't that beautiful? And frustrating? It's just like how I can never have fruit in my cereal because there's too much stress involved in figuring out the ratio per spoonful of cereal to fruit slice so that I'm not left with tons of cereal and no fruit, or worse, 3 slices of strawberry and no remaining cheerios. Needless to say, Lucky Charms have always been problematic for me.

But honestly, the relationship to what we see as color in our minds is so fascinating to me. I know that there are types of music and even certain albums that I subconsciously see as certain colors. Even thinking of my Itunes playlists, I know what color most of them represent to me.

What do you think in colors about?

Book recomendations: please read these and report back to me...





























PS. The artwork in this post is by my homeboy Sean Scully. Albeit, these aren't very representative of color landscapes, but they're very close to how I see color in my head. Dig it.

Curse you, O Monday Night Classes!

I can't believe I'm not gonna get to hear these two talk because I have classes both nights they're speaking. I'm so mad I could spit. I mean, yes, I don't really have the $50 a ticket I'd need to go, but that's what credit cards are for. My heart leapt when I heard they'd be in Seattle, and DAMN! it had to be Monday nights. How am I ever gonna finish building my time machine if I dont have an accurate perspective on our cosmological origins? Aaaaaaaaargh!