This morning's yoga class reading: Choose Happy

Happy isn’t a distant friend 

who you see only once and awhile.

Happy isn’t inherited

Like Grandma’s fine china

Reserved for special occasions.

Happy isn’t that time a few days, 

A few weeks, 

A few months ago.

Remember?

Happy is squeezed from a tube 

And crawls across the bristles of your brush.

Happy is paper or plastic, 

White or whole wheat.

It’s heads or tails

Eggs any style.

And cereal for dinner

Happy is the dessert you eat first

Because life is uncertain.

Except for its shortness

The right tool for the job.

I just got back from Peter Miller Books, one of my favorite haunts for getting hit over the head with inspiration. Among the artfully curated array of architectural books, gadgets and ephemera of a highly refined design aesthetic there are pens. I love pens. There are pencils, too. Many many many pencils. But I'm a pen guy. (There are 2 kinds of people in this world...)

Having picked up a couple of new Tombos to add to my quiver, I remembered this photo image of knives that I took while on a writing /performance retreat at Smoke Farm a couple of summers ago.

You've got your  pairing knife, your serrated bread knife, your French knife, your cleaver...


And you've got your ballpoints, felt tips, rollerballs and fountain pen.

Choose your weapon...

When I grow up, I want to be... a Corporate Poet.

That's not a direct quote, but it is a current reality for Seattle poet, Mimi Allen.

As she queries in her Adopt-a-Poet manifesto, "How are artists to change the world if they do not have a face in the workplace?"

Her first "job" is at Seattle's NBBJ. Brilliant. Every other architecture firm in town will be wishing "they had thought of it." It's a great experiment and I can't wait to see what happens next. In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can schedule an appointment with at her new office. Film at 11...

UPDATE
The games have begun at NBBJ - go here. Now.

I love Anthropologie.

There. I said it.

There's almost nothing in the store for me, but I love shopping it. Their "stuff," their product mix, their merchandising... the color, the texture, the illusion of discovery... it feels just the slightest bit like I'm roaming a flea market - albeit a wealthy suburban one - in France. Of course, it's probably not even close, but given that I'm really just Christmas shopping in some mall store, well, not a bad trick.

Of all the shops I shopped this year, these guys had more merch than anybody else (except the big department stores). And when I stopped in after xmas, well, have you ever been to Filene's basement (rip)? They (Urban Outfitters/Anthropologie) have done a sweet job of creating an array of in-house brands. I'm sure many are coming out of the same factory, but it doesn't matter. The naming conventions, the typography, all hyper-styled to be totally lo-fi, is a total ruse - but I don't care. It's way cheaper than a flight to Paris.