Filling Applications
There are things that we regret, things that we wish went differently, things that we wonder about, things which make us wish for something different, and things which we have no idea how to react to. This is the division.Yellow and red dividing the lanes, blue, red, green, and yellow on the runner of a truck, the greenest hills, blue ocean meeting gray sky, tacky gold.
The term "classy" seems perfect to me. It's the perfect word for exactly the opposite of what it's supposed to describe. Things which are elegant, of high quality, &c. aren't classy they're just nice. Classy, in fact, is an insult. Classy is the forceful exertion of faux-distinction. Classy is The Olive Garden. Classy is A Romantic Get-Away. That is to say, real elegance, style, good design, panache, or what have you sneaks up on you. You notice it before you notice the fact that it happens to be nice. Classy things, on the other hand, first announce that they are classy and then tromp along with an invaribly half-hearted attempt at delivering on its promises. If there were a book entitled "Classy," the title on the cover would be written in a brush script font.
We have quite a little braintrust going, you know.
I've completed the first part of the first one.
Two trips soon. First up is Austin: Land of meat. I used to live there, you know. I know. Sometimes, in all of its triteness, that seems like so long ago.
Nice: Oh Boy. Yummy: Aqua, Mecca. Fun: Hive.
To Carmel and back.
--Posted 03/06/01 01:03AM