DIGITAL DEWDROPS

Two of us

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 21:42:00 +0000

Is there anything nerdier than a guy sitting at home playing uke, glock, and egg, recording a Beatles cover by himself in front of his web cam? Wade Johnston, you are da man!

Sarah Palin in 30 Seconds

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 17:06:00 +0000

Porn that's safe for work

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 21:19:00 +0000

http://view.break.com/577249 - Watch more free videos

Hyperwords: helpful?

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 15:33:00 +0000

Bearing Ike

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 18:35:00 +0000

Not to make light of the serious damage caused by Ike, but this mascot does a good job of debunking media hyperbole...

Lego Simpsons Intro

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 20:31:00 +0000

Jesus is My Friend

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 19:44:00 +0000

This is the happiest song ever. There's something here to love for Christians and non-believers alike.

Festival Moments

noreply@blogger.com (L.Bo Marie) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 02:16:00 +0000

There's more than one type really... the one that comes and blesses you back - that gives back to you all you've sweat into it.... the moment that leave you breathless from the laughter... the moment that saps that last bit out of you... that moment that you didn't ever expect....

What were your festival moments?

Death Star Over San Francisco

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 20:58:00 +0000

a dartmoor inukshuk

noreply@blogger.com (moxywoman) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 07:18:00 +0000

i was there, on the top of gibbet hill, dartmoor, devon, uk.

entranced

noreply@blogger.com (Phinux) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 23:49:00 +0000

Be My Baby Dub

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 12:06:00 +0000

Gosh this is sweet!

Little treats like this are the best raison-d'etre for the Internet.

the what ifs

noreply@blogger.com (Phinux) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 02:54:00 +0000

a few years ago on this blog, I posted about a friend of mine trying to overdose himself on pills, and how it made me feel...

well, as I suppose history repeats itself, so again, do these things. this time, my roommate.

just last week in therapy i was relating the story of home my friend in highschool tried to do the same thing, and how mad i was at her, so angry. i was so mad, i refused to talk to her for a while- i felt she had done it for all the stupidest reasons, and i refused to validate such an action. my therapist thought i had good instincts.

well, this morning on my way out the door, i passed by my roommate's door and heard a strange rasping sound. could he be crying? i thought. i couldn't decide. i hesitated. i figured he was most likely crying- he had been mopey lately, and unsure of himself. i didn't want to disturb him.

today when i came home, i found out he had tried to destroy himself with sleeping pills. he was distraught, and delirious. i had to watch him for a while, and make sure he was going to be okay.

this is always the worst part...always. the wondering if you could have done something, what terrible things could have happened, how you would have felt if they'd succeeded. the what-ifs.

and i always cry, even if they don't deserve it.

haiku

noreply@blogger.com (L.Bo Marie) — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 05:12:00 +0000

Worms turn food to ground

little plants waiting hunger

growing food for me

(I love my worm bin)

RIP George

noreply@blogger.com (moxywoman) — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 17:22:00 +0000

when i was a kid my sister and i used to fall asleep on Sunday nights to CHUM FM's late night comedy show "The Sunday Funnies". it would run from 10 - 11 p.m. and i'm sure my parents could hear us giggling away as we listened to classic routines from Bill Cosby, Bob Newhart, Woody Allen and the like when we were supposed to be sleeping. it opened up a whole world of humour for me and i looked forward to it each week. George Carlin was rarely featured because his language was quite "blue", but "The Sunday Funnies" definitely introduced me to his crazy, word-obsessed, language-loving style of comedy.

this morning i woke up to the news that George, at the age of 71, has died of heart failure. i wasn't necessarily heart broken to read it, but i was a bit wistful for a time in my life when i first became friends with George. he was angry, quite messed up, fought a lot of demons, loved animals, and was very, very clever. my favourite routine of his was "Wonderful WINO" but i thought it was most appropriate to share the routine he's probably most famous for: "Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television".

warning: the language is strong, but it is marvelous. i think it is important to remember the context in which he first started doing this routine. life - and broadcasting in particular - was quite different in the 1970s than it is now!

i know he didn't believe in any god, so i will just say "rest in peace" George. thanks for the laughs.

tmw

This Cheers Me Up

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 16:58:00 +0000

Hanoi crazy night traffic from v!Nc3sl4s on Vimeo.

thinking

noreply@blogger.com (L.Bo Marie) — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 02:04:00 +0000

I miss the rhythm of childhood. The way each step followed the next.

The creak of the floorboards as mom came to the door.

Dad's nose honking in the shower.

Coffee grinder whizzing.

I miss the hope of summer in the smell of flowers, the push of the air, the ants on their hills.

climbing to the top of the dirt pile, the flapping of the tissue kite.

sliding down into the ravine, sand in my shoes, clay under my nails.

I need to go for a walk.

Hockey Cliches

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Sat, 31 May 2008 02:01:00 +0000

It's funny because it's true.

Harmonica Master Vader

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Wed, 14 May 2008 20:26:00 +0000

Rock & Suck!

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 17:02:00 +0000

What is the word for something that rocks AND sucks at the same time?

William H. Macy plays the uke

noreply@blogger.com (Phinux) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 11:12:00 +0000

This is going on my favourites list.

Star Trek Does Spamalot

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 14:33:00 +0000

Best. Mashup. Ever.

A Poem on the Eve of a New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Phinux) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:25:00 +0000

The tight fist in my heart CAN unclench-
I see it in my mind’s eye.

There is no rhyme or reason to this life,
there’s only to see the beauty in change and adversity,
and ultimately, strength.

And yours is a burning star-
one that sheds light on my inside,
and lights my way without having to guide me.

Zeppelin Meets the Beatles

noreply@blogger.com (David Newland) — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 16:11:00 +0000

Windsong - Properly quoted this time

noreply@blogger.com (Phinux) — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 09:33:00 +0000

In the wind I hear a song,
Of those who lived, but now are gone,
Through the drifting wind I hear
Softly whispers in my ear;
Remember me they seem to say,
For through your breath, I live today
~Karen Swaine
quoted from the title page of "WINDSONG: The Ancestry of Evans Stewart & Margaret Mary Brown" by Karen Stewart Swaine

The book itself is actually a genealogical book about my grandfather's family, but it contains a great deal of anecdotal information that was gathered from my relatives. Some of these are stories that have survived through telling and retelling, and now they are written down- even if the ones who loved telling them so much originally are now gone. Others are stories newly told from forgotten documents that, when taken together, form a narrative.

I have a terrible habit of anecdotal repetition and so does my family- through this repetition, there are some stories that we now have memorized, nearly word for word. And it's contagious- get one of us started, and suddenly the room is being filled with stories new, old, and classic exaggeration. Everything in my mind always connects in a beautiful synergy of plots, subplots and metaphors.

My mother and I, we have a fascination with writing these down. Putting them in stone. Collecting these bits of history for some future person as equally given to posterity.

Once upon a time, in my first creative writing class, I wrote a creative non-fiction short story about my family's reunion and paralleled it with growth as a person. I never showed it to my mom. But years later, my mother rescued an editing copy from the burn barrel when I was dumping some old files. I had never thought she would like it, but she did, and it's now packed away somewhere with some of her momentos of me.

My mother and I, we don't talk much about writing. At least, not about OUR writing; but we love to read each other's material, even if we're embarassed at our own talents.

And this is all, of course, to explain why I attempted to quote the above poem at SVFF. ;)