Ah, simplicity. Such a sweet lie.

I am forever and ever fascinated by how talent is really just another way of saying "really fucking smart". Anyone who's any good at anything can break it down into a million little pieces, then put it back together (seemingly) without breaking a sweat. Seeing behind the scenes for even just a moment feels pretty awesome.
Thelonius Monk’s advice to saxophonist Steve Lacy, 1960.
(via: Eric Alba via Swiss Miss)

Because, well, why not?

I read a bunch of blogs everyday. Some for news. Some to keep up with family or friends. Some to indulge my curiosity about how other folks live. All for inspiration.

I've always treated this blog as a big-adventure-around-the-world-what-the-hell-am-I-doing sort of place. Which is fun. And usually ripe with humor. But I want a place for stuff that inspires me. A record of interesting things, a meditation on my home town, a way to be creative that doesn't involve the words "brief" or "by tomorrow" or, good lord help me, "powerpoint" (not that I've ever abided by powerpoint, but it doesn't stop people from asking).

I used to fulfill that part of me with paint and canvas and turpentine and angsty brush-swipes. Now I read. Now I think-- maybe a little too often-- about other people's businesses, other people's passions. Which has been good to me. It has provided a myriad of adventures; a platform for IDEAS to live, 30-minute visits with titans of media and industry, fancy hotels, a passport full of beautiful stamps and some pretty extraordinary friends and mentors. I've rarely felt bored-- a gift beyond measure for me.

But maybe it's time to cultivate something else. To formalize my daily interweb trolling for little treasures of inspiration and magic and learning. We shall wee.