The usual suspects

I keep sending you to these people. Why haven't you bookmarked them yourselves? :

At midnight, a cruel wind comes up on the desert, and jackadandy goes out to gather in the laundry. Which is not the same thing as "the wash" -- where she lives, a wash is a gully where water flows after a downpour.

Speaking of painters, courtesy Badger, a fantastic post on stretching canvas.

There's this guy Slactivist who is reading the foamer classic Left Behind very carefully and seriously and explaining why it is completely full of shit. For this he deserves, at least, combat pay. In his latest post he discusses the fear that drives fundamentalists.

I wish all my friends and the people I admire had blogs, so I could read their clever jottings and send you to them. Sometimes the internets is like a party where I get to introduce this wondrous friend to that one.

A part of me believes that if all the cool people I knew just knew each other, something fantastic would suddenly be created. That's sort of what it was like in teacher school, come to think of it. The 20 people in our class -- a one-year program that gave its participants, all college graduates in some other discipline, a teaching credential -- were all so smart and inventive, we wanted to form our own school. That would have been a great school! Instead we all dispersed into various local high schools and middle schools and, after five years, there were probably only three or four people still teaching, if that. It was the mid-80s and teaching jobs were hard to come by. I had to go to Japan to teach.

But anyway, I'm having a party this year where I really do introduce everyone to everyone else.