24 January 2003 - 11:33 a.m.

Mmphrf. Did I claim I was going to get more sleep? Not that I'm complaining, really - yesterday was happily productive (finished two poems and a mini-story, worked on a layout, lettered two little collaborative pieces, and cooked pasta and snow peas for dinner). But there wasn't a nap, and I was up past 1meandering through correspondence and cookbooks, so this morning, I'm not quite cranky (even though I still can't quite breathe) but decidedly groggy.

So, for breakfast, plain yogurt mixed with chunks of fresh orange and chocolate chips. The Inner Indexer was delighted to catch part of The Connection's feature on desk "clutter" (or "array," as they took to calling it later in the program), mainly because much of it seemed grounded in the physicality of paper use - the use of piles and post-its, the "gravitas" that makes paper seem more appropriate than email for holiday cards and condolence notes, the reluctance of researchers to concede that they will not finish old, set-aside projects. . . a professional office organizer called in and told the panelists that she thought they were romanticizing clutter. Very entertaining (as well as the perfect excuse to sit on the couch and put in another row on the afghan).

On a related track, the calligraphy list has been discussing business lost to computer addressing, as well as reminiscing about pre-digital graphic design tools, like Rubylith masking film and Rapidograph pens. The first thread is mildly unnerving, of course, although I'm still convinced (as I was when I worked on the retail end of the book industry) that there will always be a market for well-crafted cards and books - it's just that we will likely have to charge more for them, in order to cover the lower volume of sales (= lower rate of income) and the expenses of hustling harder to match the book to the right client. (It helps, of course, that in the world of lettering art I am still relatively young, and I've plenty of temp options if things get a little too slow now and then.)

I'm still digesting this John McWhorter interview on race and victimhood: "There's also the drama of it. Every third person in the world is a drama queen. And crying victim, especially when you're not really a victim in any real way, feels good."

For your next silliness break: a human Vanna wall (I know there's a less vulgar, more official term for it, but that's how I personally think of it)

A hearty "thank you!" to whomever nominated this journal for a Diarist Award. It was a very nice email with which to start out the day, and I'm so pleased that you've enjoyed this enough to make it worth filling out their form. (It's not a bad form, but it's still a form - suffice it to say I'm flattered someone took the time to put me forward.)

A friend just called up and invited me to watch Antonia's Line with the girls. I think I might, but that means I need to hit the easel now. Off I go. Take care, y'all.

One year ago: "If Mechaieh asks, I didn't give this to you."