occupy sunday

the people’s reference librarian, and other occupiers

you’re looking at the people’s reference librarian. one of them, anyway.

within minutes of my initial descent into liberty plaza, where the much-heralded occupation of wall street is now in its fiftieth day, i realized i’d been woefully misled. this was not so much a matter of bias, which, as an oft-obsessive consumer of news, i feel capable of identifying and accounting for. it was instead an utter lack of understanding among the vast majority of those assigned to report on the protest of what it was they were looking at (it doesn’t help that many didn’t bother to show up before settling in to pontificate). this haziness on the part of our media intermediaries has been widely perceived as a lack of purpose or organization among the occupiers themselves, but the absurdity of this appraisal reveals itself to physical visitors almost immediately.

[ more revealing immediacy, below the fold. ]

the best laid sundays

paola, isaac’s bearded dragon

you’re looking at paola, our baby brother’s bearded dragon. we are, as yet, unable to properly capture her awesomeness. but we plan to keep trying.

of course, plans go awry:

[ the futility of forethought, below the fold. ]

harold the cryptodire and other sundays

harold the cryptodire

you’re looking at our favorite proto-turtle, obviously.

girlcate and i went to visit (and christen) harold the cryptodire [ above ], and also this fine duck, at the american museum of natural history, the closest thing we have to a graveyard for lost species, the least inappropriate place to pay our respects. Intent as we are, with our twitter feeds and flickr streams and readerless blogs and 720p-video-capturing telephones, on preserving every last detail of our idiotic little lives, we don’t seem to have much time left over to preserve any trace of our neighbors. i can only hope we turn out, in retrospect, to have been a lot more interesting and valuable than it appears we are.

[ remembrances of things past and excitement for those yet to come, below the fold. ]

on my way home i remember only sundays

post-easter nap

you’re looking at a presumably well-earned post-easter-dinner nap on the train back to the city. apparently, confronting where we come from isn’t going to get easier with age.

[ two upcoming festivals and some sunday afternoon reckoning, below the fold. ]

along comes a sunday

cardboard coffee table

you’re looking at our new coffee table, in our new digs. our new “office chair” came in the most luxurious cardboard box we have ever encountered; we weren’t about to leave it out in the snow. the table holds itself together without recourse to fasteners or adhesives of any kind, and stores place-mats and video game controllers beneath its surface. we are so impressed with ourselves as to be nearly insufferable.

[ a million reasons to anticipate this weekend's mocca festival, below the fold. ]

the ghost of sundays yet to come


you’re looking at my braintrust, with whom you can become more intimately aquainted in an imminent addition to the oubliette, coming soon to a sunday near you:


april 10th & 11th in new york: the unseasonably early recurrence of the mocca art festival. i’ll be sharing table E14 with chicago comics superstar neil brideau, on loan from quimby’s for the occasion. in addition to the aforementioned foldy (which, if we’re going to be honest, may or may not be printed and folded in time for this weekend’s festivities) and the rest of my books, i have an illustrated essay appearing in fantastic monsters, a new anthology zine which editor caitlin mcgurk will be debuting at table D27.

[ more good news and bad likenesses, below the fold. ]

deep in the heart of sunday

boots reading

you’re looking at boots, curled up in the window seat, reading michael pollan and trying to hold down airport food.

[ travelogues of foreign lands, undiscovered internets, forgotten hearts, and san antonio, below the fold. ]

it might as well be sunday

sunday on the train with will

you’re looking at the incredible shrinking sunday times magazine, shown here shriveled out of frame. whatever flaws the changes in format may have introduced, the periodical is becoming an ever-more perfect travel accessory. now, wherever our comic-induced travels may lead us, we know mr. shortz will be beside us, reassuring us, no matter the strangeness of our surroundings and the confusion in our jet-lagged hearts, that the world is full of correct answers, and that we really are almost impossibly clever to have discovered them.

[ travels with will, below the fold. ]

soup or sunday?

night of the living soup

you’re looking at a recently reanimated soup night. it was, as is often the case with the undead, somewhat paler in hue than its previous incarnations, but no less warm-blooded or vibrant. i never knew before that corn chowder could be decadent, and the messy cookie cake was better than brains.

[ s.p.x., an art opening, and further variations on a theme of cookie, below the fold. ]

where have all the sundays gone?

new digs

you’re looking at our new home.

take the tour.