Urban Honking

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Following on from my recent foray into logo design, I was interested to see Damien Katz’s recent call for a logo for his excellent open source project: Couch DB. Would it be an opportunity for a follow up? Somewhat hard to explain in layman’s terms, Couch DB is basically a system for storing the data […]

Bruce Sterling is The Zombies of cyberpunk. If 80s cyberpunk authors were British Invasion bands then William Gibson and Neal Stephenson would be The Beatles and The Rolling Stones — big sellers with broadly acknowledged reputations as innovators and geniuses. For a long time, Sterling has been, like The Zombies, mostly an obsession of the […]

This is some real pretentious, self-congratulatory hilarity. Written in the kind of high-horsey tone that we at the Mercury (the weekly paper where i was arts editor for 4 yrs) used to make fun of the Willamette Week for copping all the time – like “Portlandia! argh argh argh *chortle chortle*” (excuse the pdx insider […]

I wrote this M.I.A. feature approximately 94 years ago. Was supposed to go in the August 2007 issue of VIBE, as package w/Dizzee Rascal, but got cut at last minute for pages. Now it is on the internet, for free.

“A Wrinkle in Time” was one of 5000 books I read in 4th grade that proved to me I could be, and would be, a writer. Love and peace to a woman who believed, wholly, in love and peace. “Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, even though she knew the answer. […]

These guys are smarter than you! (And You! And You! And You! You’re gonna love em. YEAHHHH WOO WOO WOO.)

Sometimes I think my heart is too tender for this world. After three cigarettes, a deepfried mushroom sandwich and a caramel custard from Shake Shack, it’s an easy conclusion. The last activity of summer: me and E. on the Madison Square Park green, watching Venus Williams play that other chick, you know, the one with […]

THIS SONG HAS BEEN REPLAYING IN MY HEAD FOR TWO WEEKS. REASON: UNKNOWN. Please join me in my adulation of sensuous pop islandry, unending affection for the giant 1992 flip-receiver cell, and bury your face in the man born Rexton Rawlston Fernando Gordon.

A month ago Connie sent me three boxes, four years on, full of stuff what I left when I moved away from the Left Coast, and I’m just now finding the time to unload them, gradually. Most of it is old journals, books of poetry from 1998, fanzines I forgot I wrote for (Kitty Magik, […]