Day Fourteen : Sunny Side Up

Medina, Ohio

I first heard of Eggs-in-a-Basket from Alan Moore. No…not directly. In V for Vendetta, both the terrorist/anarchist V and Evie’s friend make the egg, bread, and butter dish for her. I saw it and thought it looked tasty. I made it. It is. It’s become a staple dish around the household — my kids love them as a quick morning treat.

If you don’t believe that life inspires are inspires life, think of Eggs-in-a-Basket. It is a gentle-yet-savory meme.

Later in the day, after pinning a few things, some of it my work, some of it jstuff from around the web, Matt Perrin sent me to this article that explained the fine print in the Terms of Service:

As usual, the devil is in the details. Today, the ‘details’ are Pinterest operator Cold Brew Labs’ terms of service. And by ‘devil’ I mean the following two excerpts:

By making available any Member Content through the Site, Application or Services, you hereby grant to Cold Brew Labs a worldwide, irrevocable, perpetual, non-exclusive, transferable, royalty-free license, with the right to sublicense, to use, copy, adapt, modify, distribute, license, sell, transfer, publicly display, publicly perform, transmit, stream, broadcast, access, view, and otherwise exploit such Member Content only on, through or by means of the Site, Application or Services.

In the following paragraph, Pinterest asks me, the user, to affirm that, …

… you represent and warrant that: (i) you either are the sole and exclusive owner of all Member Content that you make available through the Site, Application and Services or you have all rights, licenses, consents and releases that are necessary to grant to Cold Brew Labs the rights in such Member Content, as contemplated under these Terms.

This bothers me on two levels. The first is obvious…I don’t want to give these guys permission to use or resell my work. Not without getting a cut.

The second part is the nonsensical nature of the terms when you consider the purpose of the service. The most common way to use Pinterest is not to pin your own work, but to pin someone else’s. Judging by the second bold paragraph, by pinning a site’s content, I am telling Cold Brew Labs that I own it, and that as the owner, I grant them the right to use. alter, sell, the work.

So…if I am reading this correctly, if I go to Chuck Wendig’s site, and I pin one of his essays using Pinterest, I’m stating that I own his essay and that I am going to let Cold Brew Labs use, sell, change it without Chuck’s permission and/or knowledge.

If I were Chuck, I’d totally kick my ass for such a thing. And I’d be right to do so.

Tell me I’m reading this wrong, will you? Tell me I’m in a froth over nothing. I certainly hope so. To think that there is such blatant stupidity in the world masquerading as a useful and somewhat fun website would almost, but not really, break my little heart.

Day Thirteen : Guardian

Medina, Ohio

Who do you watch over?

Days Eleven & Twelve : Icecapades

Medina, Ohio

For our monthly photowalk, Mike and I froze on the square in Medina and took shots of the ice carvers and carvings. Did I mention it was cold?  Because…it was cold.  You can view the full set of photos on my Flickr page.

My favorite thing about the picture below is the slack-jawed looks on the spectators’ faces. In truth, watching someone work a piece of ice was pretty amazing.

Day Ten : Chez Game

Medina, OH

Friday night is game night in my household. Friends come over, we eat, drink, and make merry around various board and card games.

There is also beer. Which is why this photo is a little blurry.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Day Nine : Standing Stones

Akron, Ohio

Clearly, this is an aura alignment device. Note the placement of the cuts in the stone; note the their spacing, then note how they match to positions of the chakras on the human spine. Note the path, leading between them, as if the artist intended that a person should walk with solumn thoughts down the run between the stones, fellow seekers  lining the way in white robes holding lit candles.

Or, maybe it’s just a funny rock.

Or both.

Day Eight : Choices

Willoughby, Ohio

Long ago, men would cast their runes and consult the Norns before undertaking any major task. The runes would speak to them, guide them, give them cryptic hints as to what was to come.

Often, the Norns would lie, or at least, not tell the whole truth.

How interesting it would be for each of us to carry Action Dice, like the ones pictured above, to determine what we should attempt to accomplish that day. Would the choices we made be any better or worse than the choices we make on our own?

Day Seven : Full of Stars

Medina, Ohio

I get my coffee from a little custom roastery in the town of Autumn Falls, Ohio. My old friend from high school, Aloysius (a.k.a. Lush, as in, “You drink too much, you lush.”) Washington owns the place. He set it up back in 1995, before Starbucks came to Cleveland. He was the first of us to discover good coffee; I think when his parents split his Mom wound up in Seattle. he would spend the summers there with her, drinking up custom roasts and staying up late in coffeehouses while the rest of us were smuggling beers into the Metroparks.

“Any cup of coffee will wake your body,” Lush would intone, “but the great roasts wake your very soul.”

And thus Soul Roast, the name of Lush’s little roastery was born. He borrowed some money from Dad and some of the rest of us and bought himself a ten-thousand dollar roasting unit and two-hundred pounds of various beans from around the world. He worked hard, first selling to family and friends, then getting some restaurant contracts. Eventually he opened up a little cafe on the main square which he called The Ace of Cups. The local folks were suspicious at first of the newfangled coffeeshop (What?  McDonald’s isn’t good enough for you?), but Lush’s winning smile and excellent roasting skills won them over. His place is now a staple of the community, and when Starbucks tried to run him out of business, the locals boycotted their burnt brew until the franchise had no choice but to shut down.

What makes his coffee so good? Lush won’t say. He’ll tell you stories, though. He’ll tell you about the traditions of his Grandmama in N’awlins, a voodoo priestess. He’ll make casual mention of the wiccan coven that meets in the back room of the cafe every full and new moons. He’ll note that his roasting warehouse sits on ancient Native American holy ground, or that a rabbi reguarly blesses his equipment.

Lush is, essentially, full of shit, but he makes a good show of it.

 And really…it’s some damn fine coffee., no matter what the reason.

Day Six : Red. vs.  Blue

Medina, Ohio

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”  –Theodore Roosevelt

Day Five : Vision

Medina, Ohio

“Vision without action is a dream.
Action without vision is simply passing the time.
Action with Vision is making a positive difference.”

— Joel Barker

Day Four : Defending the Elixir

Lunchtime Gaming Session, Brooklyn, Ohio

“I, Tulo, defy you. You shall not have it. This elixir belongs to my master, Señor Philippe de Peron. He prizes it more than the gold in a dragon’s cave, more than the sun in the sky.

‘Tulo,’ he tells me, ‘I must leave for a time. Some may come seeking my precious elixir. You must defend it with your very life.’

My life, it is not much, but it is all I have, so I listen to my master. I kiss his ring. I take this vow.

So now you come. You face me. You tell me you want a taste of Master Señor Philippe de Peron’s glowing potion.

¡No! I stand between you with these blades of Toldeo steel and a heart filled with honor.

You shall not have it.

Make peace with your gods, villain, for you are about to meet them. YYAAAAAAAAHHHRRRRRRRGGHHH!!!”

Day Three : Written In Stone

Brooklyn, Ohio

The man takes no notice of me when he walks into the office. He looks tired, as usual. He sits down, boots up his computer, waits for his email program to load. He sips his coffee and checks his phone for…what? Twitter notices? New email? His schedule for the day?

Whatever it is, he glances back up at his screen when email becomes available. The look on his face is slightly glazed: he has not yet left to get coffee. His brow creases as he reads the email, then smooths as he moves past it.

One day is much as the next. I do not know why I have been assigned to this one, but I’m sure my superiors have good reasons for making me watch him. I record my findings on my stone tablet, sending the information through the aether to She Who Watches All Things.

He sighs and locks his desktop, then wanders off on some errand or another. I watch him get lost in the maze of cubicles.

I sit. I record. I wait for him to return.

Day Two : Recovery Salad

Souper Market, Lakewood, Ohio

“Rassilon demands protein,” Mike said as we walked out the door.

“Rassilon demands roughage,” I countered, zipping my coat closed to ward off the cold wind. “We didn’t overdo it last night, but the food we had was pretty rich. I haven’t had anything that heavy in a while.”

“Where did you eat?” Cory asked.

“Wherever we stopped. Meat and cheese platter…” I began.

“Charcuterie,” Mike corrected.

“Charcuterie,” I conceded, “at Market Garden, sushi roll at Dragonfly, a small Naples-style pizza at Bar Cento.”

“Lots of cheese,” Cory observed. “That’ll stick with you.”

“Exactly why Rassilon demands roughage.” I said.

“Souper Market has Beer Cheese Soup today,” Mike said. “With bacon.”

“Do they have salad?” I asked.

‘They do,” Cory said.

“Rassilon approves,” I said, invoking the Time Lord one last time for good measure.

Day One : A Fine Tuesday Night

The Great Lakes Brewing Company, Ohio City

“What are you doing tonight? I need to get out,” Mike tweeted at me. Tuesday is usually my game night, but with the hostess feeling unwell, I was up for a night out with a good friend. After work, we drove down to West 25th Street in Ohio City, home of the Great Lakes Brewing Company and a number of other fine bars and restaurants.

We started a light pub crawl with visiting Market Garden Brewery, the newest brewpub/distillery on the street.  A light appetizer and two beers later, we walked up the street to Dragonfly for sushi and cocktails. An hour of conversation later found us sampling the amazing Naples-style pizza at Bar Cento, along with an excellent French 75 for me and a Dark and Stormy for Mike. Finally, we finished the evening at the always amazing Velvet Tango Room, a speakeasy-style bar boasting all house-brewed sodas, syrups and bitters, fresh-squeezed juices, and premium liquors. It was the best kind of evening, light drinking and eating with good conversation over several hours. At the end we were both relaxed, refreshed, and recharged.

This, I think, is the art of social drinking. Enough to keep relaxed, but not enough to wind up three sheets to the wind.  Neither of us were drunk, just pleasantly loose. It was a night of aesthetic pleasures and one that I plan on repeating.

You will need:

Read more in the Lair.

My photos follow. Be sure to check out Mike’s photos on his Flickr stream.

Perfect?

Facade

Severance Hall

The Church of the Holy Oil Can

Severance Hall

Bask in the Winter Sun

Zeus Sees You

And…stretch

SMILE

Nerd Machine

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(21 Photos)

My good friend Mike teases me about this. He reminds me that I’ve not uploaded a single picture from our last year’s worth of photowalks. Clearly the shame has taken hold; I’ve started to organize my photos and prepare them to upload to my Flickr account.

Therefore, submitted for your delight and comment, some of my favorite photos from my photostream. More to come soon.

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(19 Photos)

photo by Mike Pirnat

(titled with apologies to Jared Axelrod)

With the administrator were two official-looking people. The man wore a dark blue suit; clean-cut, clean-shaven, greying a bit at the temples. The woman was also middle-aged but quite beautiful, brunette hair pulled back, blue eyes that took in everything in the room: the control console, the man in the plexiglass chamber with the wires that led from the console to his head and chest, and the small toy monkey on a stainless-steel table, also connected to the console by another long set of wires.

Jeffers began. “My experiments have to do with developing forms of renewable energy for the future, specifically coming from biological sources. In this case, we have the gentleman in the chamber hooked up to my device, which stimulates the memory centers of the brain. The energy generated by the subject is captured and transmitted, either for use or for storage.”

Jeffers flicked his eyes to the administrator with a question, the administrator nodded. Jeffers turned a central knob on the console about half-way. The results were immediate; the man in the chamber began to smile dreamily and the toy monkey chattered and clapped its cymbals together at a moderate pace. After about thirty seconds, Jeffers turned the device back off, and the monkey stopped.

‘What you just witnessed was the device’s ability to harvest clean emotional energy from a happy emotional response. It is also possible to trigger other emotions for more or less intensity, depending on the quantity of energy desired.”

The woman asked, “The subject volunteered for this?” She looked both intrigued and repulsed by the results.

Jeffers smiled. “The subjects have been told that they will be going under a new form of therapy. We hook them up to our device and induce memories that are emotionally relevant to the energy we want to capture. As you might expect, the more difficult and complex emotions…anger, betrayal, and despair produce the strongest and most efficient energy.”

The man who looked like he worked for a branch of the government asked, “What is the most powerful?”

“Regret. Without a doubt. Regret is the most powerful.”

The government man nodded. The woman in the sharp suit asked, “Don’t you have any ethical qualms about using people this way?”

Dr. Jeffers shook his head. “No. You have to understand…these people are already destroying themselves. We find them in bars, wandering through grocery stores, sitting at playground watching their kids, in cubicles unable to work but unable to do anything else. They are already in pain. We are simply using that pain for the betterment of society.”

The woman nodded. “And does this actually help them?”

Jeffers cleared his throat. “In a manner of speaking. The brain can only handle so much. After a while, it reduces the capability to feel in order to protect itself. In many ways, we are simply accelerating the process an individual would go through naturally.”

The administrator smiled, “Well, now,”  he said, clapping his own hands together, reminding Jeffers of the chattering monkey. ” This is good work, and you can see how it will pay off in the long run.” The government man nodded, the woman in the suit pursed her lips but nodded after a moment.

“Excellent,” the administrator said. “Let’s take a look at the other labs, shall we?” With that, he ushered the official visitors out.

After the door closed, Jeffers released a long breath he did realized he was holding. He sighed and looked at the man in chamber with the electrodes attached to his head and heart.

“You poor bastard,” he said, and twisted the knob all the way to the right. The monkey on the table began to chatter away faster than before.

In the chamber, the man began to cry.

Like any modern person who is well-versed in the ways of the Internet, I know that I can get better news, more timely, more interesting, more custom tailored to my needs by subscribing to a number of RSS feeds and social stream instead of subscribing to my local newspaper.  The hitch in the plan has always been the laptop…I dislike having the laptop and keyboard in front of me when reading.  The reason is purely psychological: as someone who spends all day in front of a traditional computer, I prefer that my off-time be a lap– and desk-top free as possible.

Read More @ The Secret Lair