This day in bike commuting: a dead rat, a dead snake, and an older gentlemen with a white handlebar mustache (wearing a helmet-attatched rear-view-mirror which read not unlike a monocle from a distance) riding a large penny-farthing in full pro-cycling spandex.
Today's bike commute: golden light, flooded mudpits. And a goatee'd man with a trombone, beret, & five dogs leads me astray.
The new pressureprinting.com went live today. I made this!
Paul Ford has written something very sneaky! Seven paragraphs in you're mentally preparing to skim over more half-baked nostalgic geekery, and then WHAM there are your parents having (gross, vivid, beautiful) sex. Also there are some nice bits about the materiality of information.
Stars of the Lid — Don’t Bother They’re Here [info]
On a plane (to Spain), moon, stars and seat-back screens all aglow, a muted roar and constant small shaking. Hurtling with armrests at 529mph, 30,000 ft. above an ocean 30,000 ft. deep, shoulders hunched, neck bent, head flopped, dreaming intermittently of sailing.
