Spirit with spirits – I've made poor choices, but have no regrets.,
El Diamante spends his life in a semi-intoxicated haze – why shouldn't I be in similar shape while I play?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Man I had forgotten about Buttons.
Now I want to go to sleep even less. I could stay up for hours on this.
Now I want to go to sleep even less. I could stay up for hours on this.
Friday, June 26, 2009
~*Problems*~
I am living with a profound shame. I think I like Say Anything. It...it's not on purpose. Actually, it's Angelica's fault. But the shame is mine.
It started as a joke, sorta. You see, back when I used my MP3 player (before the lack of backwards compatibility from Vista and the lack of forwards compatibility from Zen semi-bricked it), I would occasionally play a game called "Unfortunate Musical Juxtapositions." It basically consisted of me playing the edges of my library for (presumed) comic effect. One of my more effective combos was Buddy Holly's "Every Day" followed by "Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too" (that version I link sucks far more than the low-fi version I had on the Zen). People would get very irritated, even though I don't think that most of them actually cared about Buddy Holly one way or the other. I was able to excuse away having this song as being part of the game and also maybe being just the one song like this that rubbed me right.
But now it's another one – "The Futile" – that I encountered on one of Angelica mix CDs. I really wish I hated it, but I don't. I see Youtube screennames like "chickidychina95" and "xXemoscenewhateverXx" and realize that, in some small way, I am among them.
I shouldn't like this! I should scorn this. But I don't. I sorta dig it. And I am ashamed.
It started as a joke, sorta. You see, back when I used my MP3 player (before the lack of backwards compatibility from Vista and the lack of forwards compatibility from Zen semi-bricked it), I would occasionally play a game called "Unfortunate Musical Juxtapositions." It basically consisted of me playing the edges of my library for (presumed) comic effect. One of my more effective combos was Buddy Holly's "Every Day" followed by "Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too" (that version I link sucks far more than the low-fi version I had on the Zen). People would get very irritated, even though I don't think that most of them actually cared about Buddy Holly one way or the other. I was able to excuse away having this song as being part of the game and also maybe being just the one song like this that rubbed me right.
But now it's another one – "The Futile" – that I encountered on one of Angelica mix CDs. I really wish I hated it, but I don't. I see Youtube screennames like "chickidychina95" and "xXemoscenewhateverXx" and realize that, in some small way, I am among them.
I shouldn't like this! I should scorn this. But I don't. I sorta dig it. And I am ashamed.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The ideals of ignorance
You know what gives me a good feeling? This whole Roxana Saberi thing. And I mean yes, I'm glad she was released (particularly because it happened without a lot of American posturing and threats), but more than that, I'm glad that she's half Japanese. Or rather, I'm glad that I didn't know that until I chanced to see a picture of her mother, and then went to look it up.
No one mentioned her ethnic makeup. In none of the articles I read in the few months did any news agency feel compelled to note, as an aside, that her mother was Japanese. They mentioned her Iranian heritage – because it was a propos – but they let her non-relevant ethnicity pass without mention. This is a hopeful thing! Ethnicity is typically not actually relevant, but its mention as an identifier tends to give it much more weight than it deserves. I hope in the future I have no idea that the guy who negotiates a peace with India and Pakistan is half Mongolian and half Ecuadorian. Or whatever.
She is awfully pretty though. No wonder.
No one mentioned her ethnic makeup. In none of the articles I read in the few months did any news agency feel compelled to note, as an aside, that her mother was Japanese. They mentioned her Iranian heritage – because it was a propos – but they let her non-relevant ethnicity pass without mention. This is a hopeful thing! Ethnicity is typically not actually relevant, but its mention as an identifier tends to give it much more weight than it deserves. I hope in the future I have no idea that the guy who negotiates a peace with India and Pakistan is half Mongolian and half Ecuadorian. Or whatever.
She is awfully pretty though. No wonder.
I am a rational actor
I just got back from an unspeakably fun session of Spirit of the Century. There will soon be a full re-hashing of events on my character's blog, but suffice to say, it was totally, 100% worth the studying I didn't do.
Now I've gotta sleep instead of doing that studying. Finals weeks is shaping up to be fun.
Now I've gotta sleep instead of doing that studying. Finals weeks is shaping up to be fun.
Friday, May 8, 2009
العربية بدون سبب
والآن سأكتب بالعرية لأنني أريد أن أحدّث على نفسي وأنا أعرف أنّه في المستقبل سأضحك عندما أقرأ هذا النص.
أشعر بالحزن قليلا الليل. لا أعرف السبب الكامل, لكن هذا غير مهم. المهم هو الشعور. فقد أرجو أنّ حبيبتي كانت هنا معي, وأرجو أنّني تكلمت وكتبت بالعربية أحسن.
يا الله
أشعر بالحزن قليلا الليل. لا أعرف السبب الكامل, لكن هذا غير مهم. المهم هو الشعور. فقد أرجو أنّ حبيبتي كانت هنا معي, وأرجو أنّني تكلمت وكتبت بالعربية أحسن.
يا الله
Thursday, April 23, 2009
FUK IT THUG LIFE
[23:16] tyedyedtruth:
MA NAMEZ JENNY DE LA CRUZ N I LIVE N A GHETTO AZZ TOWN CALLED MADERA AKA MADDTOWN N I HAV NO FUKN IDEA Y WE MOVED HERE BUT WE DID N I GOTA MAKE DA BEST OF IT, YADIDAFEEL?! MOST OF YAL PROLY NO ME BI DA MADDTWON PIMPCESS,WICH IZ MA NAME SO AL YAL DUNT NEED N TRY N COP IT. IMA KOO AZZ GURL 2 NO N KIKIT WIT N IM ALWAYZ DOWN 4 MY SHYT I DUNT TALK SHYT AT ALL IF I GOT SHYT 2 SAY I RATA JUZ HANDLE IT, CAUSEZ LESS DRAMA. FUK DA HATERZ WHO TALK SHYT CUZ DEY AINT DUIN SHYT BUT RUNNIN DER MOUTH N LETN ME NO DER SCARED, N IM STIL REPN DAT N.S.M-N.B SO IF YAL GOTA PROB DU SUMTHN BOUT IT, N ALL YA SCRAPZ LUKIN AT MA PG NEEDA GET DA FUK OFF, N I AINT GUNA GO N2 AL DAT CUZ THREATZ OVA DA COMP AINT SHYT.IM DONE 4 AL MA HOMIEZ N HOMEGURLZ DEY KAN ALWAYZ COUNT ON ME 4 ERYTHAN N ANYTHAN BUT IF U DU ME WRONG I AINT DAT FORGIVEN. I AINT DA TYPE OF GURL 2 START HELA SHYT BUT I WIL FINISH IT I AINT EVEN TRIPN FUK IT THUG LIFE. THANX 2 ALL MA TRU FRIENDZ 4 AL DA SHYT U GUYZ HAV DONE 4 ME U NO I LUV YAL! N IF UR NOT ON MY TOP 8 DOEZNT MEAN I DUNT KARE BOUT YA, WEL IF YAL NO ME DEN GET AT ME ON MA CELLY N IF YA DUNT DEN GET ATCHA GURL WITA MSG.
[23:19] SquidgeeMoot: My favorite part is AINT DA TYPE OF GURL 2 START HELA SHYT BUT I WIL FINISH IT I AINT EVEN TRIPN FUK IT THUG LIFE.
[23:19] tyedyedtruth: yessssss.
[23:19] tyedyedtruth: Especially the "FUK IT THUG LIFE" bit.
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: It was like she was getting all worked up and then just blurted out a "FUK IT THUG LIFE" all spastic.
[23:20] SquidgeeMoot: But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, fuck it, thug life.
[23:20] SquidgeeMoot: *fuk
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: Hahahahah.
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: No dude, no comma.
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: There's no pause.
[23:20] SquidgeeMoot: Hahaha
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: It's just straight FUK IT THUG LIFE.
[23:21] SquidgeeMoot: Pretty sure there is no text which would not benefit from that.
[23:22] SquidgeeMoot: Whereas the peoples of the United Nations have in the Charter reaffirmed their faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person and in the equal rights of men and women and have determined to promote social progress and fuk it thug life.
[23:23] tyedyedtruth: Therefore, let every one that is out of Christ, now awake and fly from the wrath to come. The wrath of Almighty God is now undoubtedly hanging over a great part of this congregation: Let every one fly out of Sodom: "Haste and escape for your lives, look not behind you, escape to the mountain, lest you be consumed." Fuk it thug life.
[23:26] SquidgeeMoot: After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs fuk it thug life.
[23:27] SquidgeeMoot: (This needs to go to the next level.)
[23:28] SquidgeeMoot: I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at fuk it thug life.
[23:28] tyedyedtruth: No one could read the old writing now, but things were told by word of mouth. The chanted ritual was not the secret—that was never spoken aloud, only whispered. The chant meant only this: "In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming. Fuk it thug life."
[23:30] SquidgeeMoot: Hahahaha
[23:30] SquidgeeMoot: Every reader finds himself. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in fuk it thug life.
[23:31] SquidgeeMoot: Emily Dickinson. Anne Frank. The Old Testament. Lovecraft. Marcel Proust.
[23:31] tyedyedtruth:
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Fuk it thug life.'
[23:34] SquidgeeMoot: I can imagine all these writers writing that, throwing down their quills or whatever and cooly storming off.
[23:34] SquidgeeMoot: Mounting motorcycles.
[23:35] tyedyedtruth:
"Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror -- of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision -- he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:
"'FUK IT THUG LIFE.'
[23:36] SquidgeeMoot: Hahahahaa
[23:38] SquidgeeMoot: Hang on I've gotta get this accurate.
[23:38] tyedyedtruth: Et tu, Brute! Then fuk it thug life.
[23:44] SquidgeeMoot: lol
MA NAMEZ JENNY DE LA CRUZ N I LIVE N A GHETTO AZZ TOWN CALLED MADERA AKA MADDTOWN N I HAV NO FUKN IDEA Y WE MOVED HERE BUT WE DID N I GOTA MAKE DA BEST OF IT, YADIDAFEEL?! MOST OF YAL PROLY NO ME BI DA MADDTWON PIMPCESS,WICH IZ MA NAME SO AL YAL DUNT NEED N TRY N COP IT. IMA KOO AZZ GURL 2 NO N KIKIT WIT N IM ALWAYZ DOWN 4 MY SHYT I DUNT TALK SHYT AT ALL IF I GOT SHYT 2 SAY I RATA JUZ HANDLE IT, CAUSEZ LESS DRAMA. FUK DA HATERZ WHO TALK SHYT CUZ DEY AINT DUIN SHYT BUT RUNNIN DER MOUTH N LETN ME NO DER SCARED, N IM STIL REPN DAT N.S.M-N.B SO IF YAL GOTA PROB DU SUMTHN BOUT IT, N ALL YA SCRAPZ LUKIN AT MA PG NEEDA GET DA FUK OFF, N I AINT GUNA GO N2 AL DAT CUZ THREATZ OVA DA COMP AINT SHYT.IM DONE 4 AL MA HOMIEZ N HOMEGURLZ DEY KAN ALWAYZ COUNT ON ME 4 ERYTHAN N ANYTHAN BUT IF U DU ME WRONG I AINT DAT FORGIVEN. I AINT DA TYPE OF GURL 2 START HELA SHYT BUT I WIL FINISH IT I AINT EVEN TRIPN FUK IT THUG LIFE. THANX 2 ALL MA TRU FRIENDZ 4 AL DA SHYT U GUYZ HAV DONE 4 ME U NO I LUV YAL! N IF UR NOT ON MY TOP 8 DOEZNT MEAN I DUNT KARE BOUT YA, WEL IF YAL NO ME DEN GET AT ME ON MA CELLY N IF YA DUNT DEN GET ATCHA GURL WITA MSG.
[23:19] SquidgeeMoot: My favorite part is AINT DA TYPE OF GURL 2 START HELA SHYT BUT I WIL FINISH IT I AINT EVEN TRIPN FUK IT THUG LIFE.
[23:19] tyedyedtruth: yessssss.
[23:19] tyedyedtruth: Especially the "FUK IT THUG LIFE" bit.
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: It was like she was getting all worked up and then just blurted out a "FUK IT THUG LIFE" all spastic.
[23:20] SquidgeeMoot: But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, fuck it, thug life.
[23:20] SquidgeeMoot: *fuk
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: Hahahahah.
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: No dude, no comma.
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: There's no pause.
[23:20] SquidgeeMoot: Hahaha
[23:20] tyedyedtruth: It's just straight FUK IT THUG LIFE.
[23:21] SquidgeeMoot: Pretty sure there is no text which would not benefit from that.
[23:22] SquidgeeMoot: Whereas the peoples of the United Nations have in the Charter reaffirmed their faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person and in the equal rights of men and women and have determined to promote social progress and fuk it thug life.
[23:23] tyedyedtruth: Therefore, let every one that is out of Christ, now awake and fly from the wrath to come. The wrath of Almighty God is now undoubtedly hanging over a great part of this congregation: Let every one fly out of Sodom: "Haste and escape for your lives, look not behind you, escape to the mountain, lest you be consumed." Fuk it thug life.
[23:26] SquidgeeMoot: After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs fuk it thug life.
[23:27] SquidgeeMoot: (This needs to go to the next level.)
[23:28] SquidgeeMoot: I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at fuk it thug life.
[23:28] tyedyedtruth: No one could read the old writing now, but things were told by word of mouth. The chanted ritual was not the secret—that was never spoken aloud, only whispered. The chant meant only this: "In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming. Fuk it thug life."
[23:30] SquidgeeMoot: Hahahaha
[23:30] SquidgeeMoot: Every reader finds himself. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in fuk it thug life.
[23:31] SquidgeeMoot: Emily Dickinson. Anne Frank. The Old Testament. Lovecraft. Marcel Proust.
[23:31] tyedyedtruth:
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Fuk it thug life.'
[23:34] SquidgeeMoot: I can imagine all these writers writing that, throwing down their quills or whatever and cooly storming off.
[23:34] SquidgeeMoot: Mounting motorcycles.
[23:35] tyedyedtruth:
"Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the expression of sombre pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror -- of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision -- he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath:
"'FUK IT THUG LIFE.'
[23:36] SquidgeeMoot: Hahahahaa
[23:38] SquidgeeMoot: Hang on I've gotta get this accurate.
[23:38] tyedyedtruth: Et tu, Brute! Then fuk it thug life.
[23:44] SquidgeeMoot: lol
Friday, April 17, 2009
Bits and pieces
Over the last few months there have been a number of posts I've begun and never finished. Here, in order from oldest to most recent, are the fragments.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Catherine said that her blog wasn't representative of the way she thought. It was, rather, representative of the way she thought when she was in the mood to blog. Fascinating.
Think of that. This blog will doubtless be the same way. What about my poetry? Any poetry? That would mean poetry doesn't reveal anything about the poet, but rather the state of inspiration that created the poetry. The poet is anonymous to his own work.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I had the singular opportunity this last weekend to see someone get everything they wanted. Take a pause and consider that – everything worked out. In my experience, actually, I'd be prepared to call that unprecedented.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm hungry.
This in itself is not interesting; I often forget about/put off eating for one reason or another and wind up ravenous. At the moment, however, I'm hungry, but without craving. Usually it's fairly obvious what I want – most often it's salt or sugar, and occasionally I just want broccoli. But at the moment, nothing. I have the physical sensation of hunger, but the thought of actually eating something fails to excite me. I don't really want raviolis, or sausage, or cinnamon toast, or a pepper-turkey sandwich, or milk, or a PB&J, or what have you.
Just to test, I tasted some cinnamon sugar, but it failed to hit any kind of spot. Same with a small dash of salt.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm not acknowledging the fact that my last post was in early December.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm getting into cheese.
Cheese is complex, varied, potentially expensive; in a word, sophisticated. Cheese, as I've oft argued to my idiot roommate, is in effect the pinnacle of Western gastronomy. While he balks from even washing a dish that's been previously occupied by some truly harmless pecorino romano, I'm coming to relish the rich and powerful flavors of what is, essentially, a moldy block of spoiled, compressed sheep excretion. I recall the afternoon after acquiring my 1/4 lb sliver of blue-veined
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The beach in San Francisco was windy today. Tiny dunes in the sand. There was a big container ship leaving the bay all loaded up and it was ridiculously large and gave me that subtly unsettling feeling I get when I think about being in the water next to such a big thing. I had forgotten about the ocean kinda. I guess I had started to think the Bay was the ocean, so I was surprised by how rough the surf was and how far the water went. Someone asked me a dumb question one time, about whether I was more a mountains person or an ocean person (as if it was necessarily one or the other), and I said I was mountains. Easy answer.
I feel ultimately safe in the mountains.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm not sure if any of this means anything.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Catherine said that her blog wasn't representative of the way she thought. It was, rather, representative of the way she thought when she was in the mood to blog. Fascinating.
Think of that. This blog will doubtless be the same way. What about my poetry? Any poetry? That would mean poetry doesn't reveal anything about the poet, but rather the state of inspiration that created the poetry. The poet is anonymous to his own work.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I had the singular opportunity this last weekend to see someone get everything they wanted. Take a pause and consider that – everything worked out. In my experience, actually, I'd be prepared to call that unprecedented.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm hungry.
This in itself is not interesting; I often forget about/put off eating for one reason or another and wind up ravenous. At the moment, however, I'm hungry, but without craving. Usually it's fairly obvious what I want – most often it's salt or sugar, and occasionally I just want broccoli. But at the moment, nothing. I have the physical sensation of hunger, but the thought of actually eating something fails to excite me. I don't really want raviolis, or sausage, or cinnamon toast, or a pepper-turkey sandwich, or milk, or a PB&J, or what have you.
Just to test, I tasted some cinnamon sugar, but it failed to hit any kind of spot. Same with a small dash of salt.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm not acknowledging the fact that my last post was in early December.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm getting into cheese.
Cheese is complex, varied, potentially expensive; in a word, sophisticated. Cheese, as I've oft argued to my idiot roommate, is in effect the pinnacle of Western gastronomy. While he balks from even washing a dish that's been previously occupied by some truly harmless pecorino romano, I'm coming to relish the rich and powerful flavors of what is, essentially, a moldy block of spoiled, compressed sheep excretion. I recall the afternoon after acquiring my 1/4 lb sliver of blue-veined
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The beach in San Francisco was windy today. Tiny dunes in the sand. There was a big container ship leaving the bay all loaded up and it was ridiculously large and gave me that subtly unsettling feeling I get when I think about being in the water next to such a big thing. I had forgotten about the ocean kinda. I guess I had started to think the Bay was the ocean, so I was surprised by how rough the surf was and how far the water went. Someone asked me a dumb question one time, about whether I was more a mountains person or an ocean person (as if it was necessarily one or the other), and I said I was mountains. Easy answer.
I feel ultimately safe in the mountains.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm not sure if any of this means anything.
Friday, March 13, 2009
On the Incoherence of the Philosophers
I've finished my philosophy problem set. This is a glad thing, and will soon be celebrated with a sandwich.
I have perfected the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. If I had a camera I would document the process and describe it in great detail, but alas. Long story short, for a long time I believed that one had to choose between a hearty sandwich and a neat sandwich, since any sandwich which was neat would be under-filled, while any sufficiently hearty sandwich would be prone to leaking jelly and making messes. The solution, simple yet elegant and inspired, is to spread one slice of bread with jelly and one with peanut butter, and instead of slapping them together to make a sandwich, setting the jelly slice atop the peanut butter slice, with jelly facing upwards. This way there is never pressure on the jelly, which hence doesn't squish out. I've been warned that this method is less favorable if one slices one's sandwich post-construction, but followers of that practice are vile in the eyes of the Sandwich God.
I'm pleased with this discovery on two accounts. First, from a point of strict utility; I won't spill nearly as much jelly everywhere as I have heretofore been accustomed. But more importantly – perhaps much more importantly – I have developed a trademark. A signature style, a novel and recognizable approach to a common situation. It's surprisingly difficult – I had to transcend my notions of Sandwich and allow my mind to expand beyond what was once believed to be the extent of the possible. But a trademark – that's valuable beyond words. Anyone can be creative in an unprecedented situation, but it takes an individual of substance to do something new where routine is the the norm, and the norm is simply routine.
"Devon? You mean the sandwich guy?"
I have perfected the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. If I had a camera I would document the process and describe it in great detail, but alas. Long story short, for a long time I believed that one had to choose between a hearty sandwich and a neat sandwich, since any sandwich which was neat would be under-filled, while any sufficiently hearty sandwich would be prone to leaking jelly and making messes. The solution, simple yet elegant and inspired, is to spread one slice of bread with jelly and one with peanut butter, and instead of slapping them together to make a sandwich, setting the jelly slice atop the peanut butter slice, with jelly facing upwards. This way there is never pressure on the jelly, which hence doesn't squish out. I've been warned that this method is less favorable if one slices one's sandwich post-construction, but followers of that practice are vile in the eyes of the Sandwich God.
I'm pleased with this discovery on two accounts. First, from a point of strict utility; I won't spill nearly as much jelly everywhere as I have heretofore been accustomed. But more importantly – perhaps much more importantly – I have developed a trademark. A signature style, a novel and recognizable approach to a common situation. It's surprisingly difficult – I had to transcend my notions of Sandwich and allow my mind to expand beyond what was once believed to be the extent of the possible. But a trademark – that's valuable beyond words. Anyone can be creative in an unprecedented situation, but it takes an individual of substance to do something new where routine is the the norm, and the norm is simply routine.
"Devon? You mean the sandwich guy?"
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