tricky

I’m coming out in favor of the new american idol. Right. The same old american idol. But with the new judges and whatnot, it feels a bit fresh. Exactly what it needed. So that’s my stance on american idol. Go ahead and file it.

Tonight I heard they had tricky on and I know tricky and was thinking, “sweet! Tricky!” But then I saw the dude and I thought, “wait a minute! That’s not my tricky!” and I realized that I had a tricky. My very own tricky. And apparently there is more than one tricky.

my tricky
another tricky

moby duck

moby duck: : The True Story of 28,800 Bath Toys Lost at Sea and of the Beachcombers, Oceanographers, Environmentalists, and Fools, Including the Author, Who Went

I read the article in Harper’s that preceded this book some years back on the North Shore of Lake Superior on a rainy autumn day. It was a beautifully told and fascinating story about a shipping container filled with these rubber duckies that slides from a ship in the middle of the Pacific, I think, and begin popping up on beaches around the world. I’ve been forever blown away by a description of an area (hundreds of?) miles in diameter some where in the Pacific where plastic (and other) garbage comes together in the currents, almost coagulates – plastic bottles, shopping bags, laundry baskets, and on and on and on. Yum.

nothing is impossible

I’ve got this picture of my cousin Perry Barnes water skiing except he’s on a disk and not skis and on the disk – maybe three feet in diameter – he’s placed a stool – maybe two feet tall – and it’s 1971 and he’s got a kickass mustache and he’s standing on the stool skimming along at 25 miles an hour on a sunny summer day on South Long Lake. Brilliant.

Nothing is impossible.