Just recently got back from a trip to Seattle. I’m usually lazy about posting photos these days, but here are a couple shots of the airshow for ya from Seafair. The first is some crazy guy in a red biplane trying to stall his aircraft. The last three are the Blue Angels, and if you don’t know who they are then you’ve had your head buried under a rock.
If you’re paying attention, you’ll notice that the first three photos (at 300mm) aren’t quite as sharp as the fourth one (at 96mm). The Tamron 70-300mm lens is really cheap, a fantastic bargain for the price, but it noticeably loses sharpness at the far end. Thing is, that’s where I want to use it, especially for stuff like this. It’s bad form to blame equipment, but in this case I actually did outshoot my lens. Looks like it’s time for an upgrade.
Physical books are better than “licensed e-reader material”. Let me explain why.
The invisible hand of Amazon can’t reach in and change or destroy your books. You can lend them, sell them, or give them away. They smell good. If you happen to misplace one, you didn’t lose a $200 piece of equipment. A lot of people want to steal your e-reader, but nobody wants to steal your book. Books do not need batteries, electricity, or any other hallmarks of civilization. Books will survive the next fall of civilization. You can borrow books from a public library, and it does not cost money.
When you read a book you are an icon of literacy, intelligence, and introspection; but holding an e-reader makes you look like a self-indulgent bandwagon-hopper. My grandparents read books, my parents read books, and I will read books.
I’m not sure if it’s like this for anyone else, but three months out I still have a house with plastic tubs of stuff stacked in rooms and very little furniture. Most people’s reaction to this is, “Well go to Target and buy a kitchen table, it isn’t that hard.” Is everyone else really content to buy the fiberboard crap that comes out of those stores? The stuff is ugly as hell, and as soon as you bump or kick it the stuff starts flaking apart. Oh sure, it’s functional, barely. But it’s not attractive by any stretch.
I decided when I moved in that I wouldn’t waste my money on that stuff. I want some actual real furniture, made out of solid pieces of wood and not sawdust superglued together. So over the past few months I’ve been slowly accumulating things that don’t make my house look like a dormitory. The bed set was one. A couple of decent sofas was another. And a few days ago I finally bought a real writing desk. Not something to put my computer on, but something used to hold papers and pencils. This is a desk from when they actually knew how to make desks. No idiotic sliding tray to bang and scrape your knees on, no stupid plastic-covered hole in the middle. Genuine stained and finished mahogany, dings and scratches and all. This thing has character, it has panache. Someone was probably writing on this thing when you were in diapers. Damn, son, but that’s a real desk.