On some occasions, in the voyage of self-discovery, it’s the simplest of revelations that make all the difference.
Yesterday morning, actually, the night before, I toyed with another banner, sticker idea. I whipped up the first draft of a graphic, then went to sleep.
Wednesday morning, when I should’ve been proof-reading the scopes, I worked with a code sample, and then I actually wrote code from scratch. Not much, just a few characters, but the result pleased me as I learned a whole new way to deal with a situation.
Hardcore coders will laugh. So what? To me, web markup language is just like typesetting code I used, “back in the day.” Yeah buddy, we had to bang two rocks together to make binary.
So it wasn’t a huge step, but the littlest of creative endeavors, no matter what the source, can be pleasing.
Unrelated musical note:
I was old school, I suppose.
Bibliography:
I picked up my treasured and hallowed copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and re-read it. I won’t link to the latest new copy because I feel that the best copy of the text to have is one of the older ones, back when the author was still on this terrestrial plane. Used book with no movie tie-ins.
(It’s not that I don’t want Warner Books to make money, or that I don’t like Johnny Depp, it’s just that this is sacred text, and it shouldn’t be profaned, or blasphemed with marketing.)
I found one passage that did incite a minor brain riot. It’s about the North Star Coffee Lounge:
“The North Star Coffee Lounge seemed like a fairly safe haven from our storms. There are some you go into-in this line of work-that you know will be heavy. The details don’t matter. All you know, for sure, is that your brain starts humming with brutal vibes as you approach the front door. Something wild and evil is about to happen; and it’s going to involve you.
“But there was nothing in the atmosphere of the North Star to put me on my guard.”
(Thompson, Hunter S. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. NY: Random House, 1972. Pages 157-8.)
It’s a good title for a web journal. It’s a good introduction. It’s a good masthead. And it’s way too much work to change any of my site for that.
But one little passage triggered that train of thought.
Wednesday night?
New theater. The Alamo – South Lamar location.
I wonder if they picked this date for a special reason?
The last time I peeked, the building was a shell, barely an exoskeleton of brick. It’s nicely finished out, but there was still that aromatic blend of spicy food and wet paint. To be sure, it’s that pleasant blend of eccentric and movie, done up with a modern flair, like stadium seating.
I was with Steph and her ex, a Taurus of redoubtable ability. Whoever did the marketing for the special evening hit the target square in the center.
Libra & Gemini from Amy’s. Sagittarius & Cancer plus one from Jo’s. A whole crew from Bouldin. Everyone who matters.
It was an invite-only deal, and I was guest of a guest of a friend. Still got in for a buck. Still had a ton of typical Alamo Draft House fare, dollar a pop. Plus stadium seating. Plus some crowd interaction. And a Leo server who couldn’t be beat. My espresso was properly creamy, the pizza was piping, and the movie was suitably weird. The Taurus made one or two comments, sotto voce, and one of them garnered a laugh from the full house, at the end of a seduction scene, he said something about, “This is why I like seventies movies.”
Snickers all around.
I’d say that the new Alamo Draft House (Lamar) is a perfect example of how old Austin and new Austin are compatible. Some mainstream material, but then, some rather bizarre programming as well.
I had to check the ticket stub, we saw Eliot Gould in a 1970s-era film called “Silent Partner.”
The final note, when I checked, and I’m not even sure what this one means, all I had written down?
“Squeal for me.”
