The seeds have now soaked overnight, as have the Chia pets. We applied the seeds today.
All posts by Mike
Days of Chia: day 1
Prior to moving recently, I uncovered an original Chia pet at my parent’s house and brought it with my personage to Lawrenceville. After a rather intensive and fruitless search for Chia seeds for purchase (besides through the internet), I learned from CVS pharmacy that Chias are seasonal products. Seeds accordingly are only made availible in stores as the winter holidays draw near. Sure enough, a week or so before Halloween, CVS unveiled it’s line of Chias; at which time I purchased a Garfield Chia to get both the Garfield pot and some seeds.
The following photo-diary represts my first attempt at growing Chia. I will be updating this diary so you can see the drama unfold daily.
Type in “Jumping Jacks” on Google and get:
THE MOST PROFOUND THING OF ALL TIME.
Or just click here if you are too lazy to do that – Jumping Jacks.
Hello Sailor
I saw this at work today and then spent the rest of the day drawing IT. SOON this work will be in the MOMA.
Halloween Havoc
Heathcliff-O-Lantern
Evidently, Heathcliff predated Garfield by about five years. This would lead one to make the accusation that Jim Davis owes some creative royalties. However, as Joe has pointed out, Jim Davis is not a talentless hack, because Garfield‘s innovation was that he thought, while Heathcliff spoke. Hence, the subtle genius of Davis, and the archaic barbarity of George Gatley.
Interestingly, in the Heathcliff and Dingbat cartoon, there was a pumpkin named Nobody. We decided not to carve a jack-o-lantern of Nobody, because a pumpkin carved like a pumpkin is “as stupid as a bowl of mice.”
“Stupid as a bowl of mice” courtesy of Tracy Morgan.
Let there be authors.
If there were no authors, there would be no accountability or responsibility.
Modernity
Modernity on the British tongue sounds like Maternity, except of course there is a "d" and not a "t" in there. In America it is more of the "mod" part of modernity, which is stressed and apt just to sound more "mud" than "mod". This morning on my way to the mail I passed a house that looked to be the definition of "modernity" - or the "modern", depending on how you say it, or where you say it. That isn't to say that it was industrial and/or recalled octopus trains stretching American grain fields to a group of Molly McGuires in a factory town... ...though in a sense, or to my senses, it did collapse an expanse. A house two triangle slabs a slice of yellow between. It sat cavased backed on a large lot. But, what truly came to define it - or make me realize that somewhere in my head I'd collapsed something were the two teenagers waiting for the bus in front of the house: Smoking.
A Brothers’ Match
My brother and I bought shirts that match, the difference is that his head is bare and mine has a hat.
Quote:
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, pg. 4, by Michael Chabon.
“He stood, in his socks, five feet five inches tall. Like all of his friends, he considered it a compliment when someone called him a wiseass. He possessed an incorrect but fervent understanding of the workings of television, atom power, and antigravity, and harbored the ambition – one of a thousand – of ending his days on the warm sunny beaches of the Great Polar Ocean of Venus. An omnivorous reader with a self-improving streak, cozy with Stevenson, London, and Wells, duitful about Wolfe, Dreiser, and Dos Passos, idolatrous of S. J. Perelman, his self-improvement regime masked the usual guilty appetite. In his case the covert passion – one of them, at any rate – was for those two-bit argosies of blood and wonder, the pulps. He had tracked down and read every biweekly issue of The Shadow going back to 1933, and he was well on his way to amassing complete runs of The Avenger and Doc Savage.”