February 25th, 2005


Putting us in our place

the_flea_king pointed me to this article by Michael Gorman, the president-elect of the American Library Association. While his basic point about the academic and scholarly reliability of Internet searches is sound, his attitude toward both Google and the blogosphere brings new meaning to the word "snark."

I guess us online types have been put in our place. Surely even now Larry and Sergei are shutting down the server arrays in shame...
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    NPR's "Morning Edition"

Alpaca Update

I still don't know Freon the Alpaca's new name, but here is the most recent member of the household upstairs.

The alpaca formerly known as Freon

I think I went to high school with this guy...

Update: His new name is "Zephyrus Peaceheart", as bestowed by the Senior Upstairs Tenant and the Child.
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    Winnie the Pooh on video

El Ardid del Desastre

My story "The Trick of Disaster" is now up at BEM Online in Spanish. I'm rather taken with the very cool illustrations of Cavity the Clown, a/k/a Caries el Payaso, done by their artist, one Nacho Gallach Pérez. Click through to BEM and check out the lead and spot illustrations...

For comparison, here is the original Ideomancer illustration along with the English text of the story. And here is the Frank Wu illustration used in Greetings From Lake Wu.
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Work in Progress

He chose a street of commerce, buildings two and three storeys tall with small gods or tutelary spirits on their signboards and carved in the mainbeams of their roofs. There were well-dressed people afoot and plenty of mules, along with minimal reek of chamber pots -- all indicating some prosperity. Where there was wealth, there was wisdom.

"A thousand pardons," the Angel said, stepping in front of a likely man wearing stained gray brocade and a worried expression. The Angel's voice was hollow and thin, for he had to draw air in to make his words, but he rarely thought to take enough. "May I beg of you some small assistance?"

The worried man barely met the Angel's eye, nodding slightly, and pressed a worn copper in the Angel's hand before walking onward, muttering of debentures and defaults in some fiduciary incantation.

"Ah," the Angel said to no one in particular. He turned the copper over in his hand. It showed the vague profile of a man on one side -- or possibly a head of cabbage -- and something weaponlike on the other. Typical, he thought, and turned the copper in his fist until it spread lacy wings and flew away, a staggering, glinting progress brought to a quick end by a voracious pigeon.
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