A Practical Laboratory in Self-Awareness
Every device runs scripts.
A biological device runs habits, emotional reactions, social conditioning, memories, appetites, fears, inherited tendencies, and learned routines. Continue reading
For some time now I’ve been wondering whether the Norton Street musical projects might be more than simply albums.
What if they were places? Continue reading
Every human being develops skills during a lifetime. A carpenter learns woodworking. A physician learns medicine. A musician masters an instrument. We generally accept that expertise grows through years of study, practice, failure, and experience.
But occasionally we encounter an individual whose range of abilities seems to ignore those normal boundaries. Continue reading
“From somewhere between the campfire and the transmitter…” Continue reading
Devoted the entire evening to restoration of long-forgotten photos. I’ll show them today at our zoom meeting. Continue reading
A common bumpersticker from the early sci-fi and fantasy cons was: “fantasy writers eat their dead”.
Thinking about that certainly brings back a smile. “Fantasy Writers Eat Their Dead” was widely recognized as an inside joke of science fiction/fantasy convention fandom, especially on bumper stickers and badges in the early 1960s through the 1980s. I don’t know the definitive origin story or a first appearance in print, but you might find it in Zap Comics. Mr. Natural may have said it first. Continue reading
“Where the impossible is performed with impeccable manners.”
There are certain evenings when one wanders into the theater expecting respectable entertainment, only to discover that reality itself has misplaced its libretto. Continue reading
Some journeys refuse to stay the same.
When the original Polly Barton album first arrived on the airwaves of Kay GOD, it quickly became one of our favorite musical explorations of the Norton Street universe. But as often happens in the studio, new ideas kept appearing, new performances emerged, and the story continued to unfold. Continue reading
[Verse 1]
When you’re living through history,
It’s just another Tuesday.
Coffee on the console,
Smoke drifting through the haze.
Somebody’s tuning up a guitar,
Somebody’s late again.
Nobody’s chasing glory—
They’re just punching in. Continue reading
