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Monday, August 24, 2009
Pale Robin
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Saturday, August 22, 2009
Whilst Woodsploring
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Venture Capital
My half-assed attempt at edible mushroom cultivation! Birch logs, salvaged from a downed tree near Basset Pond, have been sealed with bees wax in order to prevent future contamination though I'm worried that they've already been exposed to wild sporulation (which would compete with my introduced culture). I really have no idea what I'm doing.
If all goes well, in 6-9 months I will have my first flush of Shitake mushrooms! Living the dreeeaam.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Spells Cast by Spray Cans
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Craft days with Joe. This is the first stencil I've (allegedly) done in a long while. There are a couple around Woodinville if you're looking, though none of them were especially strategic. I can't say I'm very pleased with how it turned out - there was maybe a few too many fine details that just didn't come out, and overall the image isn't very sharp. It was a fun afternoon project, so there's that to be thankful for, may it curse the surfaces it now decorates. Allegedly.
Lost Histories
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Saturday, August 8, 2009
On the origins of becoming a "blogger":
I feel obligated to make some preliminary disclaimer on the limits of an online identity in order to affirm my own aversion, but let's be straight - that kinda dogma is bullshit. That being said, at this juncture I am still very unsure of the intent of this blog, the seriousness with which I approach it, and the overall seaworthiness of the whole venture. I honestly don't know much about "blogs" and "bloggers", but I do know there are stories, excitement and obsession I wish to share and, given the world we live in, this perhaps is the best venue for my forays into self-involvement, as undesirable as it may be. I must also confess that I hope blogging will help me with completing my various projects (this will largely become a personal art blog if all goes accordingly). Still, with all of that hot air considered, I would much rather we convened in secret, between headstones or amongst the pines to conspire over campfires or to catch up with one another through notes hidden in dusty library books and scrawled on the walls of bus stops. That is to say, we should hang out. Chances are, I'm secretly in love with you.
Your friend,
I
Your friend,
I
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