I moved my lamp to the other side of the apartment

[Waving] Thanks for filling in for me Mom! No problem son! Try not to write about drinking so much! Can’t make any promises, but okay!

[End scene.]

I can’t get this one type of beer out of my head lately. It’s haunting me. It’s a limited release beer and has been in stock at Argonaut lately. To give credit, Jamie introduced me to it over Christmas as her favorite beer. It is called … Midas Touch Golden Elixir. If you clicked the link, skip this. If not, it’s based roughly on a drink excavated from an ancient tomb, a blend of wine, beer and mead. So it has barley, grapes, honey and saffron. Yeah, saffron. It’s like the most expensive substance by weight on the planet. It’s the pistil of a flower that must be hand-picked by enslaved brown people.

Dogfish Head makes some incredible beers. They’re leading the gourmet beer charge from the commanding state of Delaware. Midas Touch is so good, that I have a hard time not spending the $13 for four bottles of beer. As Jamie puts it, “It tastes like 300 calories and saffron.”


If you’ve not noticed the ticking column to the right, Twitter pretty much rules my life. But not rules in a bad sort of way, like a heroin addiction. More like a helpful new type of cigarette. It’s like another IM, or email, or blog or whatever. One of those things that doesn’t replace normal activity, just overlays it. A new venue for chatting, following people of note, watching headlines from off the beaten path. Or it’s just another silly internet thing that I stop doing in a few months.


I’ve been feeding Knives her cod liver oil regularly. It seemed to help a little, but then she started hacking again recently. So two nights ago, we were watching TV and she started making a guttural heaving, deeper and truer than the usual hack. She coughed up a hairball about the size of a plum. I was so proud of her.


I’m wrapping up this book Spook Country, by William Gibson. I read the cyberspace books when I was younger, and The Gernsback Continuum is one of my favorite short stories, that when I read it in high school really drew me to short fiction. Spook Country is full of the same dazzling prose, loaded with images that mushroom in your mind before you can turn the page. Right down to the green sneakers of his paranoid performance artist. Gibson always seems about a day and half beyond the current ideas. Hundreds of mini-essays, Santerian gods, text-message wiretapping, Cuban organized crime.

It takes place closer to reality than the old VR will rule the world novels. “It’s the place we all have landed, few by choice. The place where we are learning to live.” While Neuromancer had me wondering in the ’90s whether Gibson’s world could someday be real, Spook Country has me wondering if it already is.


The other day we were in Jamie’s car, and I had my phone playing music on the stereo through an auxiliary jack. She was in the bank and I noticed that when I touched the screen, it made a weird whine. But only the screen and only when it was lit up. Jamie got back in the car and I said, “Hey look at this.” Whreeeeeeee normal whreeeeeeeee normal.

“Isn’t that weird?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“It only happens when I touch the screen. Isn’t that interesting?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s kind of interesting.”
“You never pay any attention to my interests.”


Two nights ago, to allow better reading after dark, I moved my lamp from one side of the room to the next. It helped, so I left it there for now. Now it’s kind of like I have a whole new apartment. All I want to do is sit on the couch under the new lamplight and do various activities. Read, watch TV, whatever. It’s better now.

In the spirit of The Moving of the Lamp, I have changed the blog layout. Nothing too big, just a tweak here and there. Moving a couple things around.


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