Tuesday, June 24, 2008
bit
The thoughts and whims of your love will guide you down their path, even when it's not apparent. So who or what will you love the most? Who will you keep an ear for, listening with abated breath?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
colin at work
a photo essay
by colin black
People frequently tell me they wish they had my job.
I forget, is it the green one or the black one?
This isn't even shaped right. I keep it devoid of personality in protest.
A genuine Darth Vader potato head?!?!
Amy pointed this out. I had no idea it was even on the wall of my cube.
The end.
by colin black
People frequently tell me they wish they had my job.
I forget, is it the green one or the black one?
This isn't even shaped right. I keep it devoid of personality in protest.
A genuine Darth Vader potato head?!?!
Amy pointed this out. I had no idea it was even on the wall of my cube.
The end.
i am not rick astley
I won the Rick Astley poll. By a vote of 15 to 12 I look less like him than more like him. Thanks to everyone who participated in this extremely important debate.
Monday, June 9, 2008
city of roses
I got home after that last cup of coffee and realized I'd OD'd. Strange feeling. I put myself in bed and woke up a few minutes ago, and I have no feeling of what time of day or week it is, which is pretty rare for me. My phone told me that we are in the closing hours of Monday.
As I was telling James last night, the more that I sleep, the more that I want to sleep. It's a vicious cycle. In protest we stayed up all night last night put in a full effort on the new album and laid some comp tracks for R&D. We've already named the album, and funny enough, have had artwork for it for almost a year. It will be called "City of Roses", will probably feature about 10 tracks, and should be done by around the end of the year. More on this later.
I believe I have learned today that selfishness is the killer of God's plans. Is forward thinking simply looking away from self, out?
As I was telling James last night, the more that I sleep, the more that I want to sleep. It's a vicious cycle. In protest we stayed up all night last night put in a full effort on the new album and laid some comp tracks for R&D. We've already named the album, and funny enough, have had artwork for it for almost a year. It will be called "City of Roses", will probably feature about 10 tracks, and should be done by around the end of the year. More on this later.
I believe I have learned today that selfishness is the killer of God's plans. Is forward thinking simply looking away from self, out?
river maiden and the clover
I stumbled into a coffee shop in the Heights that I've never been to. River Maiden at 602 Devine Road. They serve Stumptown, apparently one of only two places on this side of the river.
More interestingly they have a Clover 1s machine. They are one of only a few hundred places around the world that have one, and it's likely that no more independent shops will get them... because Starbucks just bought the company.
A Clover uses a different brewing technique and only makes one cup of brewed coffee at a time. Reviewers say it makes the best cup of coffee available—of course, depending on what grounds you toss into it. I went with the barista's suggestion on what coffee to use and 60 seconds later I was holding a very fresh cup of coffee. It reminded me a lot of the pure Kona I had in Hawaii—extremely balanced. Too balanced, actually, just like the Kona. It was so smooth it was boring. I think it's a matter of picking a bold enough coffee so next time I'm going to try whatever is strongest. If it fails me again I'm going to say Clover is a no-go. Maybe it will fare better with Starbucks' less-than-par coffee?
A cup of Clover-made coffee here goes for about $2.50 with tax.
The atmosphere at River Maiden was much better than I anticipated in the Heights and both baristas seemed very well versed in the trade. Free WiFi and a very short distance from my pad. Offers some reasonable competition to Savona for my business!
More interestingly they have a Clover 1s machine. They are one of only a few hundred places around the world that have one, and it's likely that no more independent shops will get them... because Starbucks just bought the company.
A Clover uses a different brewing technique and only makes one cup of brewed coffee at a time. Reviewers say it makes the best cup of coffee available—of course, depending on what grounds you toss into it. I went with the barista's suggestion on what coffee to use and 60 seconds later I was holding a very fresh cup of coffee. It reminded me a lot of the pure Kona I had in Hawaii—extremely balanced. Too balanced, actually, just like the Kona. It was so smooth it was boring. I think it's a matter of picking a bold enough coffee so next time I'm going to try whatever is strongest. If it fails me again I'm going to say Clover is a no-go. Maybe it will fare better with Starbucks' less-than-par coffee?
A cup of Clover-made coffee here goes for about $2.50 with tax.
The atmosphere at River Maiden was much better than I anticipated in the Heights and both baristas seemed very well versed in the trade. Free WiFi and a very short distance from my pad. Offers some reasonable competition to Savona for my business!
Friday, June 6, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
need
We took the Scamp back to her dad's house and she came outside to check it out.
It was a pain, cutting out the solid metal in the dash to make room for a standard car stereo, but luckily Scott had some tools and a vague idea of how to accomplish what needed to be. I handled the electrical and wiring, which ended up being an interesting project in a vehicle from 1972 that came from the factory with one speaker in the dash and no accessory lead. We got it all knocked out in an afternoon and it seemed to work perfectly.
She sat on the driver side and put in a CD. On hearing the music she cheered and clapped in that way, that way that only she could ever do. "Oh Colin, it sounds so good!"
The desire to get on the open road overwhelmed her. She put in her key, shifted the car into drive, and moved it toward the end of the road.
Slowing to the first stop, she suddenly had a puzzled look on her face. I watched her move the turn signal lever with no effect.
She turned the key again, got out and stood there, hand on her forehead. She swore a bit, which surprised me. I could tell she knew we had broken her very first car for probably forever.
I went to her, put my arms around her and pulled her close, and said to her, "It's OK. I will fix it. It's not a big deal, I promise." She struggled, just a bit, but she couldn't escape my eyes, and so she looked straight into them. She found assurance and then her face changed. I could see that she trusted me; it moved me, and it moves me now as I write this. I fixed her car and we went to church the next day.
I think in those nights, those moments of naivety and innocence, of idealism and the concept of romantic love and marriage as an uncharted and perfect idea, we deserved one another.
It was a pain, cutting out the solid metal in the dash to make room for a standard car stereo, but luckily Scott had some tools and a vague idea of how to accomplish what needed to be. I handled the electrical and wiring, which ended up being an interesting project in a vehicle from 1972 that came from the factory with one speaker in the dash and no accessory lead. We got it all knocked out in an afternoon and it seemed to work perfectly.
She sat on the driver side and put in a CD. On hearing the music she cheered and clapped in that way, that way that only she could ever do. "Oh Colin, it sounds so good!"
The desire to get on the open road overwhelmed her. She put in her key, shifted the car into drive, and moved it toward the end of the road.
Slowing to the first stop, she suddenly had a puzzled look on her face. I watched her move the turn signal lever with no effect.
She turned the key again, got out and stood there, hand on her forehead. She swore a bit, which surprised me. I could tell she knew we had broken her very first car for probably forever.
I went to her, put my arms around her and pulled her close, and said to her, "It's OK. I will fix it. It's not a big deal, I promise." She struggled, just a bit, but she couldn't escape my eyes, and so she looked straight into them. She found assurance and then her face changed. I could see that she trusted me; it moved me, and it moves me now as I write this. I fixed her car and we went to church the next day.
I think in those nights, those moments of naivety and innocence, of idealism and the concept of romantic love and marriage as an uncharted and perfect idea, we deserved one another.
the dark ages
I remember a night of stars on the way home, the last time, from Chelsea's house. I was driving west over 63rd just after midnight when I looked to the south over the hills and spotted evidence of Heaven. A vast array of bright white stars, all too rare to us city folk, complementing the moon that danced in and out of the clouds. I pulled the car over to the side of the road, mystified; I stood there against the door for 45 minutes and took in the sky while the Improverbs worship record played out the open windows and reminded my ears of some of the goodness in the world.
It was all breath taking and felt significant for reasons I didn't understand. I thanked God and I drove home. Wrote a blog entry about being at "Ground Zero", moving on from my relationship with Chelsea (which that night I had accepted to be over forever) and into a new chapter in my life. I could never have known how long and how desolate that chapter was going to be. I went to sleep and woke up the next day to meet up with an old friend whom I hadn't seen in many years. Her name was Kristen.
It was all breath taking and felt significant for reasons I didn't understand. I thanked God and I drove home. Wrote a blog entry about being at "Ground Zero", moving on from my relationship with Chelsea (which that night I had accepted to be over forever) and into a new chapter in my life. I could never have known how long and how desolate that chapter was going to be. I went to sleep and woke up the next day to meet up with an old friend whom I hadn't seen in many years. Her name was Kristen.
blur
"Approach with caution", the non-existent warning label reads.
I shouldn't be so hasty in making a decision when I can get them from God for free. And the answers are always right. So why should I stress?
Guide to Fixing Your Life
by Colin Black
Step 1: Discover direction and capacity
Step 2: Redefine usage of time
I shouldn't be so hasty in making a decision when I can get them from God for free. And the answers are always right. So why should I stress?
Guide to Fixing Your Life
by Colin Black
Step 1: Discover direction and capacity
Step 2: Redefine usage of time
what my life means, part 2
Does God want us to go out and save the world through our own doing, with some sort of magical words? Or does He want us to go out and build bridges which He can use? Does He want us to reach out and touch and change the lives of our fellow people through love and kindness, and if so, does He want us to do that with or without condition?
And what is the purpose of life if not to combat evil and darkness through love for each other?
And what is the purpose of life if not to combat evil and darkness through love for each other?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
what my life means, part 1
Shortly after I stepped off the plane this evening, I somehow managed to lock my house keys, both car keys, and laptop into the trunk of my car, while it was parked at my parent's house. So here I rest for the night, on the couch. Work (which here I'm referring to in the traditional sense) is not an option.
That is, I'm unexpectedly continuing my foray into a hobo-nomadic existence of sorts; on the couches, in the homes, borrowing the cars, and using the computers of others, and finding inexplicable peace in that. In fact I'm so OK with having locked my keys in the car in such a silly way, and not being able to go home and rest in my own place, that I am throwing myself off.
It's being proven to me that some of these new theories in my life are true; that the importance of my existence is in the virtual and the abstract, rather than the concrete. My work is examination, processing, and directive output, not "production". If we didn't before, we at least now live in a world where the abstract intangible is worth more.
Thus far I've been so focused on the tangible, the identifiable, and the explainable. It took God breaking everything I knew, everything I could feel, before I was so confused that I was willing to really see something new... and even then only because there was, from what I could see, no other option.
Two weeks ago I began discovered what my life means.
That is, I'm unexpectedly continuing my foray into a hobo-nomadic existence of sorts; on the couches, in the homes, borrowing the cars, and using the computers of others, and finding inexplicable peace in that. In fact I'm so OK with having locked my keys in the car in such a silly way, and not being able to go home and rest in my own place, that I am throwing myself off.
It's being proven to me that some of these new theories in my life are true; that the importance of my existence is in the virtual and the abstract, rather than the concrete. My work is examination, processing, and directive output, not "production". If we didn't before, we at least now live in a world where the abstract intangible is worth more.
Thus far I've been so focused on the tangible, the identifiable, and the explainable. It took God breaking everything I knew, everything I could feel, before I was so confused that I was willing to really see something new... and even then only because there was, from what I could see, no other option.
Two weeks ago I began discovered what my life means.
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