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Fuck that iPad shit. Fuck it good. I've been eying those Android tablets something fierce ever since I played with one in a Verizon store. For one, Android is just way cooler and betterer. For two, it's so much fun to play with one of those things. 9 goddamn screens, man! :D (For three, I really dislike Apple (products).)

And it looks like I may someday soon actually get one?! According to predictions, the price of some of the simpler Android tablets could have them as low as $49 by Black Friday. I feel like I should start researching this now because--as is usually the case--I'll probably get a lot of giftcards/checks by Christmas, plus all this money I'm raking (read: barely trickling in but in large quantities, if that makes sense), I may be able to splurge up something awesome.

See, I still love my Android phone--I really do. It's a first gen Droid X, and even though it's a bit outdated it still does plenty to keep me happy. But between its occasional failings, and the age and increasing unusefulness of my laptop, it's become apparent what needs doing.

Splurge on a super freaking amazing tablet. (Maybe even this one???)

From an Android tablet, I'll be able to my surfing and videoing and funning and reading and everything. I'd prolly still tweet and read the news and other stuff from my phone. But when I settle in to have me some fun, some R&R time, some masturbatorily indulgent multimedia time, some whatever the fuck I wanna do; that's when I'll pull out my XOOM or some such.

Fuck yeah. I have wanted this for much too long, man.


Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized.

Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Sarracenia 'Palmerpink.'

So I posted the other day about my rekindled carnivorous plant obsession—I mean, hobby. I mentioned, in passing, that I had "discovered" a possible cultivar, so here's the lowdown on what that means and what I meant.

The term "cultivar" is short for "cultivated variety," and signifies that a particular plant is so desirable and interesting that people want exact copies of it rather than simply seed from it. Some famous American pitcher plant (Sarracenia) cultivars include the legendary Adrian Slack, the massive Leah Wilkerson, and the classic Judith Hindle.

Part of how these come about is that, unlike horses x donkeys = mules and certain other hybrids, Sarracenia hybrids aren't sterile and can be crossed and recrossed without limit. Further, random chance can create crazy combinations of genes such that even hybrids between the same species—heck, even the same parents—can demonstrate quite the variety. More on that elsewhere.

Depending on how easy…