To vanish

I don’t have time to read this right now, but this is fascinating.

And now you’re swimming

Commencement address from David Foster Wallace:

There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?”

Journalism, yeah!

Good article about how the search of the perfect apple ended up backfiring. Slow down man, you’re killing ‘em.

To write an unromantic novel

Good interview with John Updike from 1978:

Life is a very strange thing, in a way, compared to life in a novel. People in novels rather rarely eat; their health is not often of concern to them; earning money isn’t nearly as important to them as it is to those of us in the real world. In the very novel form there are distortions, variations, whereas the love life of novel characters and their personal interrelations. E. M. Forester somewhere says that people in novels are so sensitive to each other—we all kind of blunder through life, more or less dazed; yet people in novels are ever so aware of each other, and sharp. So, novels and life are not strictly equivalent.

It’s that time again

In honor of my brother on his birthday (the music in this is NSFW):

Anyone working today?

I’d wear about 95% of the shirts at No Mas:

The future of mobile computing

Is bright. Via Meghan:

Dead meat (see what I did there?)

Via Matt, a disturbing article about the dangers of beef:

Ground beef is usually not simply a chunk of meat run through a grinder. Instead, records and interviews show, a single portion of hamburger meat is often an amalgam of various grades of meat from different parts of cows and even from different slaughterhouses. These cuts of meat are particularly vulnerable to E. coli contamination, food experts and officials say. Despite this, there is no federal requirement for grinders to test their ingredients for the pathogen.

Full sentences soon? Maybe.

So damn busy. Things should clear up some after this weekend. What’s cracking?

Drink less Red Bull before bed?

A couple nights ago I had this dream: I’m having dinner at a fancy restaurant on the water and I’m mad at myself because I ate too much of the early courses and now I’m full before the entree has arrived.

Then the waiter comes to the table and serves me a shark, about five feet long. I have no idea how to eat it, so I just kind of stab into with my fork like something in a cartoon and pull out a hunk. It’s barely cooked and tastes like nothing, but I have this terrible feeling that I’m not allowed to leave my seat until I’ve finished the whole thing.

Thoughts?