Let’s be honest. I just don’t have the time — or take the time — to update this as often as I should.

You can instead follow me on twitter at http://www.twitter.com/jasonhamrick

I finally finished my book. Well, it’s a collection of fictionalized stories from my youth. A memoir, but told the way I remember it, rather than the way it happened. I’ll probably edit it for the next five years. Here are the opening paragraphs from a story.

The town I was born in, three thousand people and three stop lights, was too big, too hurried , and too civilized for my father, so when I was five years old, he moved us out to the country. My dad knew a family from our church who owned acres upon acres of barren pine about fifteen miles out from the city limits, and like most Christian revivalists, that family wanted to escape the corruption of the world they were born into and found a new community, a New Canaan, a shining city on a hill.

My dad bought into that promise of renewal, and with it came a few acres of his own in the burgeoning community. He paid a man with a Caterpillar to bulldoze a one-lane dirt road from the highway out into the far edge of New Canaan. Mr. Banner, the man with bulldozer, charged my dad five hundred dollars and one jar of moonshine to cut the trail, clear cut an acre or so, and haul away the underbrush. Aside from that one acre clearing, he left the rest of the land as it was, a muddy creek bed, sickly pine trees, swamp land, and misquito breeding grounds. Dad paid the city to bring in electricy, running water, and sewage. He would have been happy to live by candlelight, water well and outhouse, but my mother insisted, so we hauled civilization out into the sticks, kicking and screaming all the way.

 

I was doing some ego searches this morning and found some photos of the Threespot office taken by Tracey Gaughran-Perez (Sweetney), of the Baltimore Gaughran-Perezs. Enjoy!

I was in the attic tonight looking through memorabilia, and in the bottom of a box of high school things found one burgundy Converse high top. On the rubber toe cap, someone had scrawled in black Sharpie “the currents will shift”. I guess that’s what passed for profundity when I was sixteen.

I’m usually immune to this sort of thing, but this review of a toddler’s restaurant is too precious.  http://www.momlogic.com/2008/11/review_lilys_cafe_resturant.php

• I don’t like Deerhoof as much as I should. They sound like a drunk Blonde Redhead. #
• Writing the script for the “death of SEO” powerpoint presentation I gave a week ago. #

• I need a drink or a sandwhich.. and I don’t care which. #
• @maggiesmeats Let it flow and remember that this is ephemeral. No need to be clever. Also, try http://www.twirl.org. in reply to maggiesmeats #
• Listening to Teen Spirit today is equal to playing Seasons In The Sun in 1991. http://tinyurl.com/6q66lz #
• @benperson Is your apt. still busted? That is un-boss. in reply to benperson #
• I just listened to Nirvana’s Lounge Act for the first time in five years. God, that is an amazing song. #
• @sweetney Big ’splosions is not a dig. I love splosions. QoS is gorgeous and grim, and as far from Brosnan and one can get. I say yes. in reply to sweetney #
• Quantum of Solace. Grim, with little plot, big explosions. #

Continuing Signs of the Apocalypse

Two of my least favorite things, incessant advertising and airport security theater are about to be combined. For the love of God, is ther e no place in America free from advertising?!

Conservatives who threaten to move to Germany after the Obama win are just as childish and petulant as liberals who threatened to move to France after the Bush win. Stay in America and fix the country you claim to love.

— Me, Right Now.