I’m working on doing some research for my Graphic Design 2 project (which I can’t possibly describe yet, because it’s still in such a phase of conceptual that I can’t even wrap my head around it) and fish came up.

So, as I am oft wont to do, I bought a fish. And took pictures of him. And cut him up a little bit. But then I started to feel like I was just playing with a dead thing, so I stopped.

The rest can be seen on my flickr

Two videos of Michael Pollan on Colbert Report that I found while I was researching my Type 4 project, which will have something to do with local food and the family farm.

This post is about Kitty, who you may remember from episodes such as:

“Lap-cat”

“Desk-cat”

And “Bed-cat.”

My attachment to this cat has never been in question in the blogsphere (what with every-other picture being of him), but I have never explained why we have such a strong bond. You see, the one episode I never shared was “Crash-kitty.” You know how pets seem to have this ability to sense when people need them? Well my little furry friend started coming over as soon as I moved into my apartment, sitting on my bed with me while I was recovering from my crash. He spent the better part of those five weeks of bedrest curled up beside me, and we’ve been inseparable every since.

Until last weekend, when he mysteriously stopped hanging around. Mr. Kitty gave us quite a scare over the past few days. He’s been M.I.A. since Friday night. Due to his stolen nature I tried not to worry about it too much. His rightful owners must just be enjoying his company, right? But it was unusual to see no trace. No meowing at my front door, no hauling himself all the way up to the top of my screen.

So tonight after much worry, I decided to head over to the neighbors and ask if they had seen him. To my dismay, she thought he was with me. Four days was too many to not see this cat, especially living so close to the coyote-infested mountains. I came into my house and cried tears of kitty sadness. Twenty minutes later (during a very sad conversation with my mother about how a replacement cat would just break my heart) the neighbor showed up with kitty by her side! She said he had been stuck under the house!

I am just so glad I went to ask. I can’t imagine how long a cat can survive without food or water. Now he’s on my desk, burping as usual. Don’t worry, it’s kind of cute.

There is a sandwich that lives in my dreams. It’s called #19 at Langer’s, a Jewish delicatessen on Alvarado and 7th. #19 and I have a long and ill-fated history. This dreamy pile of pastrami, coleslaw, and the softest, most delicious Rye bread you will ever taste, changes lives. But this post is not about my #19, delicious as it may be. This post is to signify the end of the #19 era.

Starting tomorrow (coincidentally the first day of summer term), #19 and its greasy counterparts will be a thing of the past. I’ve committed myself to six months of healthy eating. In the long run, six months is in fact merely .5% of my expected 100 year life. Using this fact as reassurance I shall throw myself (or rather heave, as the case may be) into a diet and exercise regime that promises more energy and a happier outlook.

There. I’ve made myself accountable. Wish me luck!

I’ve thought long and hard about it, and finally the day has come. It’s time to revisit the blog. I sat down to write my sure-to-be-infamous “I’ve finally crawled out from under my blogrock ” post, and got a little preoccupied with technology. “Is there a widget for this?” I though to myself. “Do you think I can update my blog from my phone?” Google searches and excited thoughts filled my head. Then I thought “Maybe I can convince Lila to have a blog-off with me! Like the old Andrew days!” But alas. The surest way to get back on the horse is by putting your foot…Okay, that metaphor is going nowhere fast. If wishes were fishes, beggars would ride, as my dear ol’ mom likes to say. The point is, ya just gotta start.

I will admit, my first blogging lapses came out of shear laziness. I had too much to do. I had too little to do. I didn’t feel like it. I had become rather finicky about my blog. I had to be “in the mood.” But after a while (somewhere around the year mark, I suppose) it just became too daunting. It wasn’t about posting what I was up to or why, it became more an issue of all the time and activities I was going to have to account for. “If I make a post about shaving my head am I going to have to backtrack all the way to how I GOT the lice? Is the story of the bus stop in South Central really pertinent to the story?” Ok. I didn’t shave my head, I don’t have lice, and as far as I know I haven’t been to South Central LA yet. But you get the idea. Which brings us to the theme of the day: there’s no gift like the present. So here we are. Clean slate. I’m expecting big things from you, kid. Just know that I really do have every intention of keeping this up. Plus I’m taking a short stories class next term and everybody knows the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his… You know, maybe I should just stay away from the metaphors for today.

Well, now I have to get back to some painting, but I’m glad we’ve had this talk. (That’s right, I’m a painter now. Latex, baby!)