So I’ve been using the Pre for about 72 hours now, and after having an incredibly thoughtful drunken iPhone vs. Pre text message debate with a friend last night, I have decided to collect my thoughts in one spot, here. This is going to be fairly straightforward and simple as I haven’t had a ton of time to play around with it yet.
Design
The design of the phone is fairly stunning. As much as I am a fan of Apple’s long legacy of revolutionary industrial design, I think Palm has equaled the iPhone in just general sexiness. Holding it in your hand is an absolute joy. It feels (as Engadget said) like a “polished stone” and fits perfectly into your hand. The weight is just right, not too heavy, not too light. You can tell Palm put a lot of time into making the design just right. Though I had heard and read that the phone feels topheavy with the keyboard out, I haven’t noticed that yet. Even when I was trashed last night I was able to get the keyboard out, type fairly well (considering) and didn’t drop the phone. Having the large lip just below the keyboard really helps give you something to hold on to.
webOS
I have never used iPhone OS regularly, and before th…
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1. Full nude strip clubs are great, but honestly it’s better to just go to the titty bar so you can get a drink
2. Paying $175 for a hotel room and not sleeping in it is awesome
3. “Slot machines” are actually “take Chris Carpenter’s money away machines”
4. Makers Mark is fucking phenomenal
5. The beds at the Hilton in downtown KC are insanely comfortable
6. MSTRKRFT is awesome live
7. I still hate tequila
8. Getting on the roof of your hotel is not as easy as they made it look in The Hangover, in fact it is impossible
My heart is racing down the track in a bright-red car with fuel injection. It has its foot on the gas and its eyes are peeled wide as it maneuvers past the other cars. The competition doesn’t stand a chance, for my heart is racing faster than a hummingbird, a cheetah, a deer, a cat. My heart’s ears flap in the wind as it careens around curves and zips down the straightaway. A look of concern appears on my heart’s face and it nearly loses control. But even with this concern, my heart races on, because it can and because it must. My heart should not consider consequences. It mashes the accelerator flat against the carpet and flies uncontrollably down the track past spectators and farms to an unknown destination, all the while not considering what will she think, what will her parents think, is this a mistake, do I have a condom. My heart only feels the urge to race and does so because it cannot resist.
My heart is racing down the track in a bright-red car with fuel injection.
Climb the rungs, one
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine steps to the tippy top
Shivering hesitation
Frozen solid in the hot sun
Summon courage from within and jump—
Flutter for a moment halfway between up and down
Arcing high, curling tight, air whistling past faster than was previously imaginable
Plummeting triumphant through the clouds of my own personal storm
Rushing fast faster fastest water looming brace for impact
SPLASH
Jake came to camp fresh outta high school.
Nth-generation soldier with a love for jazz.
His dad, and his dad, and his dad, and his dad,
And so on, were soldiers. Jake had to be, too.
Jake could play, though, the sarge called him,
Satchmo reincarnate. Though none of the guys
could ever figure that one out. All they knew was,
you had to tap your foot when Jake played his horn.
The boys piled out of the truck, ready to kill.
Jake thought only of his mute horn back home.
Shoot, Jake, shoot! Aim for the head!
And with tears in his eyes, Jake aimed for his own.
I originally wrote this three years ago when I worked at a sandwich shop. Those times are past, but I thought it would make for a good post while I’m busy studying for finals.
It was around one-o-clock in the morning, and all was well at the shop as I came back from a delivery.
Sandwiches being made. Ice machine clinking. A man talking to a pickle.
There were a few people in line at the moment, and my manager was making their sandwiches. She leaned over to me when I came up to the table to help and whispered that the guy over at the booth seemed a little strange. Her story was that he babbled a little before ordering a pickle, and only a pickle. After we finished making sandwiches for three or four drunks, I took a casual look over and saw that she was wrong.
The man was not a little strange. The man was genuinely and completely insane.
Let me paint the scene for you here: a group of people at a booth, talking loudly about their drunken escapades, another group getting ready to leave with their sandwiches in bags, and in the middle of all the action, a man, alone at a table, gesticulating wildly in a fierce argument with a pickle. It was all I could do not to l…
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My blogging history is an interesting one. Every year or so, I get the urge to blog again, and I start one, spending weeks on design and all the assorted intricacies associated with independent blog operation, only to fizzle out in a few weeks, with no inspiration to continue on.
This time, however, I plan to go in a different direction. I aim for this blog to be something more than random stories from my life and commentary on society and politics. Make no mistake, those topics will be covered, but the primary function of this blog will be as an outlet for the creative side of my brain, primarily in the form of poetry and prose. This being my first foray into regular publishing of any kind, I am quite excited to see how it all turns out.
For this reason, I believe my interest and fascination with this blog will remain constant, and that it will last longer than a few months. I need to thank the effervescent Chris Vincent for his help getting this set up. The similarity in our URLs is not by chance; “isdangero.us” was the result of a random late-night AIM conversation (it was totally my idea, by the way). The similarity in our first names,...
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