Thoughts are afloat to redesign

Thoughts are afloat to redesign this stupid thing and make it an honest to god blog. Not that it isn't now but I'd like to narrow the design to content ratio some.

More in 2002. Happy New Year everyone.

It's the last morning of

It's the last morning of 2001. I'm spending a low-key evening at a potluck dinner which is just fine with me. I've had perhaps the most manic year of my life.

I'm home. Now I need

I'm home. Now I need a vacation from my vacation.

Did ya miss me?

I'm leaving tomorrow, will be

I'm leaving tomorrow, will be back on the 30th. Ya'll come back now, y'hear?

The New York Times reported

The New York Times reported yesterday that, after a slide throughout the 90s, murder rates are up in several US cities with Boston, Pheonix and Chicago topping the list. Reasons given are economic decline, Sept. 11 anxiety and the general cycical nature of crime. Panic and fear, of course, remains alarmingly high, as it did in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary throughout the last decade. One statistic I read reported that in 1996, citizens of suburban Milwaulkee had roughly the same amount of fear of falling victim to a violent crime as citizens of inner city Washington D.C. even though there is a 25-fold difference between the two.

After completing the Central Booking

After completing the Central Booking Year in Review this afternoon, I've finished work for 2001. Hallelujah.

The Critical Divide:

I glanced over at this publicity photo of Peter Rock that came with his book The Ambidextrist as I reviewed it today for The Chronicle. Every once in a while I get jolted from my critical self and think "Jeez man, someone spent years of their life writing this thing and you're passing judgement in a few hours. Then I remember that I'm not hired to be a nice guy.

I've never liked the expression that critics are frustrated artists. Legendary film critic Pauline Kael may have said it best when she insisted that she never wanted be more than a really great critic. When I'm not obsessing over getting a phrase right or turning the piece in on time,  I believe that critics are there to present informed opinions, to add a dimension of discourse between artist and audience. Fairness and clarity is key. For me, I assume the author's motives are geniune, that they intended what they wrote and I am to say, without reserve, whether I think they succeeded or not.

Every now and then, I feel like I succeed.

Blow, Blow...

My nose is all stuffy.

To the Letter:

Since no one under the age of 60 bothers to write letters anymore, shopping for stationary that isn't thick, creamy and looks suspiciously like a wedding invitation has proven a burden. But I can now continue my letter writing project as new supplies have arrived from the good folks at Ecopaper. Yay!

Good Vibes Holiday Party:

My friend Laura invited Suzan and I to a holiday party at Good Vibrations, where Laura works as a web producer. We spent a solid 90 minutes meeting her colleagues, learning about worker-owned cooperatives and ogling antique vibrators that looked like highly erotic blenders.

An excellent, if unconventional, way to spend a Monday night.