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Archive for the ‘art’ Category

Superheroes were different when I was a kid. They mostly lived in comic books. Superman later became a TV show, but the special effects were so hokey you could practically see the strings propeling him in flight around the stage. We didn’t mind. We were kids. It was understood that childhood imagination, pretending, was part of the deal.

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I’m pretty omni-movirous, meaning I like a variety of movies, so long as they’re moderately plausible and the stories are well told. There are not many genres I avoid, really — given that I want a good plot and don’t want to suspend disbelief like a hangman working overtime. So when we put Water in our Netflix queue, I’m sure the review looked good to me, but the reality, when I sat down to watch it, was different.

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On our last full day in western Pennsylvania, we drove southeast of Pittsburgh down to Fallingwater, the Frank Lloyd Wright house built over a stream.

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Visiting Pittsburgh

  We spent four days in Pittsburgh this month, not a lot of time to get to know a city well, but enough to get a strong sense of the place, and it felt very insular to me.

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I’ve found a “new” song I like. It’s the theme to the Reebok commercial “Join the Migration.” The singer’s voice is gorgeous, and the song has this alluring, haunting quality. I like it so much I’m almost ready to buy one of their t-shirts. It begins with men looking slowly skyward and includes bird imagery; I like that the men assemble in V formations yet they don’t beat you over the head with the metaphor by showing migrating geese.

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Beads!

Mrs. Ombud’s been busy at The Crucible lately. A little glass, lots of color, a few tools, some focused fire, and you can see her beady handiwork in this photo:
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“But I want to know for sure!
C’mon and — hold me tight.
You mooove me.”
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Of Left and Write

Yesterday I began a reply to Bloglily on how I plan my writing projects — to the extent what happens is actually planned. Here’s the rest of my answer.
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My deficiencies in planning are revealed. My coworker Bloglily, she of the bright wit, well-turned phrase and sharp mind, had asked a number of us how we plan our writing projects.
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How many people still eat a Christmas goose? A figgy pudding? I’m not even sure what a sugar plum fairy is, outside of little ballerinas in the Nutcracker. Are real plums involved?
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