February 12th, 2010
This post seems to have turned up a small technical glitch in the website. I’ve fixed it now, but it may have shown up twice somehow.
Usually I prefer to let people explore the Brain Food links unguided and draw their own conclusions, but I think Don Peck’s How a New Jobless Era Will Transform America over at The Atlantic is worth a particular mention. One in eight Californians is presently unemployed, nearly one in ten Americans, and things don’t seem to be in much rush to get better. I’m not sure if the long-term effects will be as bad as Peck projects, but the possibilities are definitely sobering.
It makes me a little bit grateful to say that I have a job to complain about. I have a few responsibilities there that will no doubt distract me over this long weekend, but I’ve finished dinner now and a few other chores, so I’m going to settle in for a weekend of writing now. The alarm clock is set for 7:30 AM tomorrow morning. At some point I will have to leave the apartment to do laundry and get some sunshine, but aside from that, after I finish this post I plan to reboot my laptop, open up First and Last and Always, and start writing.
Before I go, I found for you an upload of P!nk’s very awesome Grammy performance, and you can click through to a preview of my upcoming story.
April 23rd, 2008
The next time I met Rio, he was just another stranger on the train, standing, half-dancing in an empty car. I almost didn’t recognize him; in the café he’d been tiny, almost delicate, but standing, half-dancing to the iPod on his hip, he was taller than I expected, slender and very nearly powerful, with long muscles gently defined just beneath his skin. He recognized me, though, and I couldn’t mistake those eyes anywhere, or the smile that flashed across his face as he caught me watching him again.
“You! You’re the boy from the other night, at Hopper’s!” He walked over, taking out an earbud, letting it hang on his shoulder.
I laughed. “First time there. A friend of mine recommended it. I like it. It’s a good thinking-place.”
“Oh, where do you normally hang out? I used to go a lot back when it was called Phillies, but not so much lately. They started using this Brazilian coffee in the mix, and it’s nice and strong, but a little too harsh for me.” He bit gently at the corner of his lip, sucking on it. “Anyhow, I saw you playing pinball when you came in first. It’s really neat, because you don’t play with just your hands. You play with your hips, too.”
“It’s the only way to bump. You have to shove the frame around, but gently, so the machine won’t catch on and say Tilt.”
“I bet you’re pretty good at it.”
