This is a weird time of year. Here in Berkeley it's a gorgeous day, sunny, though chilly. The magnolias are already blooming. It's not spring yet, not even winter. The looming New Year makes a guy think about transitions, the passage of time, new stuff—the usual. The numeral 2005 sounds new—shiny and pristine, just out of the box, wheareas 2004 sounds (already), old, scratched, a little battered, like my camera cellphone (which I bought in 2004). This blog is one of the transitions for the new year. I've started it This is a weird time of year. Here in Berkeley it's a gorgeous day, sunny, though chilly. The magnolias are already blooming. It's not spring yet, not even winter. The looming New Year makes a guy think about transitions, the passage of time, new stuff—the usual. The numeral 2005 sounds new—shiny and pristine, just out of the box, wheareas 2004 sounds (already), old, scratched, a little battered, like my camera cellphone (which I bought in 2004). This blog is one This is a weird time of year. Here in Berkeley it's a gorgeous day, sunny, though chilly. The magnolias are already blooming. It's not spring yet, not even winter. The looming New Year makes a guy think about transitions, the passage of time, new stuff—the usual. The numeral 2005 sounds new—shiny and pristine, just out of the box, wheareas 2004 sounds (already), old, scratched, a little battered, like my camera This is a weird time of year. Here in Berkeley it's a gorgeous day, sunny, though chilly. The magnolias are already blooming. It's not spring yet, not even winter. The looming New Year makes a guy think about transitions, the passage of time, new stuff—the usual. The numeral 2005 sounds new—shiny and pristine, just out of the box, wheareas 2004

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The Saturday of the Next Big Thing

3:32 PM Saturday, February 11, 2006

[What is a soft-shell crab, you ask?]

My fear: another Saturday wasted. The best day of the week, in principle. The day that it's OK not to do any of the stuff I have to do the rest of the week. The day for recreation, feeling good, detoxifying from the rest of the week. This Saturday morning, however, I had no idea how I was going to use all of that great "free" time. Not only that, the sun was out and shining brilliantly, while my East Coast relatives were hunkering down for a blizzard. It's been just like mid-spring after the rains are all over. And yet…

The other day I ate a soft-shell crab at a Thai restaurant. What is a soft-shell crab, you ask? It's a crab, prized as a delicacy on the US eastern seaboard, who has gone through its seasonal molt and discarded its old shell, a shell now too small for its growing body. But the new shell, which was there under the old shell, has not hardened yet. And so, the epicure prizes this crab because it can be eaten shell and all. As for me I can say that I've been feeling depressed, jaded, scared, stuck, paralyzed… But specifically, in terms of my persona as a Künstlertypus (artistic type), I've been feeling like a soft-shell crab about to be devoured by Father Time.

Earlier this morning, I scribbled out a mind-map page, to which I gave the title, "What is the Next Big Thing?" The phrase, I believe, is from Steve Jobs. Last year the Next Big Thing was the Coffeeblog, checking out the latest "social" software, acquiring a laptop, getting involved with Flickr, putting my paper-based artwork on the screen. I still do all of the above, and I am writing this on said laptop, but the new Next Big Thing for 2006 is a mystery. I know, from long experience, that it will not be a mystery forever. Of course, Keisuke would have said, "It is of no importance." Of course, he would have been right. Right? And, as I write this, I am starting to feel that I have not totally wasted a gorgeous, sunny Saturday morning. When the Next Big Thing arrives, it will let me know. And, no, the Next Big Thing is not tea (reference: the image above). That was a joke.

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