What I'm reading: "Flesh and Machines" by Rodney Brooks. Thesis: The barrier between the organic and the inanimate is going to start blurring awfully quickly. Tell me something I didn't know.
What I'm listening to: "More Songs About Buildings and Food" by Talking Heads. This record didn't exactly do anything for me the first couple times I listened to it. Now it's stuck in my brain. David Byrne's voice is narcotic.
Today is a bright, sunny day, so of course the Street Preacher was outside Pottery Barn yelling his head off. His (?) children have been trained to hand out gospel tracts, so you have to thread your way carefully while in his presence. It really struck me today what a lame street preacher this guy is. I paused and actually listened to him for a few moments while waiting for a walk light; he seemed particular unsure about what he was railing about. I heard him yell: "You can be Born Again twice! [pause] Three times!" Like it's an amusement park ride . . . which I suppose isn't a completely bad analogy.
If I ever start audioblogging, you can bet I'll webcast this idiot.
I'm wrestling with the prospect of taking out an Internet personal ad. If there's one thing I've learned about romance, it's that drinking coffee and reading is terrible way to find it. I've actually tried online personals before but with disappointing results. But perhaps the biggest reason I don't like them is because they're far too time-consuming than they have any right to be. I hate wading through all those "scientific" match-maker filters, trying to locate my "type." My "type"? I have a type? Come again?
It's fair to say that all I really want when I'm browsing personal ads is to be drinking coffee and reading . . .
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