Steve Jobs SOS

Found looking up from Montgomery Street at California today.

Sad. It's like an SOS.

(tap photo to enlarge)

"Oh. Steve Jobs died."

My heart hurt just a little bit when I heard that Steve Jobs had died. It was 2pm in the afternoon, the day of, October 5. He couldn't have even been that dead by the time the news reached us in downtown San Francisco. My co-worker, a guy, made a soft sound like, "Oh." The sound was soft and quick and got my attention. I held my breath..."Steve Jobs just died." My response was immediate. Eyebrows up, surprised. Heart hurt in a tiny corner spot, pain.

I didn't cry like I did when the world lost Jim Carroll or Jerry Garcia. But there was pain in my heart like there is when someone who makes the world a better place just...disappears.

I loved Steve's emphasis on presentation and design. I love that he put form right next to function, if not just a little on top. This is the idea of an artist, and artists do not usually hold the kind of power necessary to put form a little bit on top of function. But he did it. And now he's gone...

When Andy Warhol died, his magazine, Interview, was immediately changed for the worst. Gone were the beautiful oil pastel portraits of the cover subject by Richard Bernstein. Gone was the oversized tabloid format. In came "regular format" and photography on the cover. So far from the vision of the artist, another one who had great power, another one who made what looks good more important than what works right.

It's so admirable.

I hope something similar doesn't happen in this situation.

Bye, Steve Jobs. It just seemed too early for you to move on...

This Just In: Blogger, Not Improved, Becomes Asshole

Keeping the Jones good-looking has just become a lot harder.

So, I've been out of touch a while. Now I'm back in touch and nothing works as it once did.

I'm really working on becoming old and crotchety.

Jones posts are not going to be evenly lined up with corresponding photography and embedded youtube players are not even going to fit in the window.

It seems blogger went and improved itself right out of compliance with whatever came before Chrome. Can't use Chrome without an Intel chip. Can't have a neat blog without Chrome. My $1700 macbook isn't Intel.

Way to improve, blogger! Bravo!

thanks.
LJ

In a time before "obliques"

Marilyn Monroe was really cute before she got Hollywood glamorous. Take this photo for example.

Another thing to gather from this photo: a little tummy roll was considered totally sexy in this country back in the day. Must have been before pilates and the word "obliques" entered the general American lexicon.

Must have been nice.

ps. can someone please recreate this bathing suit? ADORABLE!

Duke

John Wayne has this to say about his movie star persona. I kinda like him for being so honest about this kind of thing. Most people just fake it and keep on faking it until they forget they're faking.

"When I started, I knew I was no actor and I went to work on this Wayne thing. It was as deliberate a projection as you'll ever see. I figured I needed a gimmick, so I dreamed up the drawl, the squint and a way of moving meant to suggest that I wasn't looking for trouble but would just as soon throw a bottle at your head as not. I practiced in front of a mirror."

Fingernail Blues

Works better than a pill box. Just take a nibble when you're feeling down.

Happy Place

From the genius at someecards.com comes Happyplace.com, a new source for a good larf.

Playground Camo

*photo thanks to kT over in minneapolis.

Jennifer Aniston's perfume

While out today enjoying actual real air, I saw Sephora and remembered wanting to see what Jennifer Aniston's perfume is all about. Because I love her. She's hilarious. And she described her perfume as smelling "like the beach."

I went in and I smelled. Mmm, indeed, very beachy. Like sand, salt and suntan lotion. A bottle runs $70, and thankfully comes in a rollerball version too: $18.

Finally I have Jennifer Aniston's perfume, and when I smell it I'm reminded of Hawaii, and magazines and...a weird silent confusion. Like how vacations can sometimes feel. That feeling of, "how did I get here?"

Smell memories. What a little mind screw.

Another kind of sorry

I really hate it when people tell me to not be sorry.

As in, "This company is run in such a bullshit way. I can't believe I have to deal with this."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault."

It's like they never caught on to what that kind of sorry actually means.

Here goes for those of you who didn't get it yet: "I feel empathy for you. I recognize your pain, I relate, and I know it sucks."

The purpose of this is to connect and therefore soothe the distressed. Not assume responsibility for something I clearly have no part in.

carry on.