7.24.01

Overheard: Theological discussion at Firefly.

Scenario: Two characters from a Woody Allen movie swap neurosis at the next table.

Him: I’m just worried that I’ll never taste the joyous nectar of true Dharma. Because I’m fucked up. And I know I’m fucked up! And there’s nothing I can do about that.

Her: Yeah.

11:16 a.m.

7.20.01

It was like something out of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel–we fell in love when the butterflies were mating. I drove home between fields of corn, and hundreds of yellow butterflies chased one another across the road. The setting was idyllic, the relationship proved less so. He was an entrepreneur without a lot of extra time for romance, I was too young to be thinking about happily ever after. A year later, I was upset, and disappointed, and ready to call it quits. Driving home one night, I realized the butterflies were mating again. I smiled and watched two of them dance around each other. Then they hit my windshield.

10:36 a.m.

7.19.01

The only really funny five-word Webby speech was Google’s: “Google gives great… search results.”

11:15 p.m.

7.18.01

The New Yorker’s fabulous blurb about “Riverdance” on Broadway: “Not the Lord of the Dance with his shirt off and the leather truss. The other one.”

12:20 p.m.

7.17.01

One of my favorite love poems:

I wish I were close

To you as the wet skirt of

A salt girl to her body.

I think of you always.

�Akahito

12:22 p.m.

I’ve been doing some impromptu modeling around the office, which tends to happen when you work in a building full of trade publications. Anyway, I finally (finally!) have my very own banner ad:

It’s for the WEB2001 Conference, and as you can see, I’m totally a guru. You’ll also find an itty bitty me on the catalog cover:

And you can kind of see my butt on the June edition of Intelligent Enterprise.

11:14 a.m.