40 So what does the “40” mean? Why is it there? Here goes.
In November, for the second year in a row, I participated in National Novel Writing Month, nanowrimo. org . The idea is that you write 50,000 words in November. And if you do, you can print out a certificate. I did. (Thank you, thank you.)
Was trying to think of how to do a December repeat, and for some reason calculated out 50,000 words divided by “x” number of tweets. Voilà! Rounding up, 1500 tweets. I have a ways to go. (These “tweets” have morphed to be longer.)
Next: price of coffee. It’s going up. And so is the price of other commodities. My coffee was two fifty. Gas likewise is rising. It is three dollars a gallon again, as the price of oil passes ninety a barrel. Of course even at that price, there are beaucoup subsidies and hidden costs. A few days ago, I googled the price, in US dollars, of a gallon of gas in France. Almost six. Oh well. Paul Krugman points out this commodities increase is not attributable to speculation alone — link .
Fell in love with the graph paper “cut outs” exhibited at Nina’s. I snapped the picture and then wandered around the coffee shop, looking for some curatorial information. Finding none, and having finished my precious commodity coffee, I went to the counter to enquire. “Who’s the artist?” “He is.” The man standing next to me in line? No. Him, the barista with the dark bushy hair and big glasses? Well, no. Actually it is the man sitting at the top of the stairs. As a side note, the woman running the expresso machine is his spouse.
So I get my pot of Moroccan Mint tea (wholesale price skyrocketing by the second) and approach the stairs. Query. Indeed, he’s the artist. Complement, ask about photo. He tells me his name, inspirations, okays photo. I didn’t get his name or sources, but here’s the art.