mug mud » jeremy

Fossils

jeremy — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 18:22:26 +0000

Fossilized bones are exceedingly rare and many species left no trace on the Earth for science to discover. From Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything:

The complete fossil legacy of all the Americans alive today will only be about fifty bones.

John Halaka at The Mosaic Rooms

jeremy — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 20:25:46 +0000

The Mosaic Rooms in London will be exhibiting John Halaka’s series of drawings, Landscapes of Desire from May 6-25, 2011.

From the gallery page:

Landscapes of Desire is inspired by the ruins of Palestinian homes and villages destroyed during and after the 1948 exodus…The repeated stamping of the words “remember,” “resist,” “return,” “rebuild” and “forgive”, defines the forms, textures and tones of the landscapes, becoming a visual mantra.

Halaka’s recent work in both painting and documentary film making investigates cycles of repression and displacement as well as the personal and political relationship between desire, denial and instability.

This series is haunting and worth the visit to see in person.

About Good Vendors

jeremy — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 23:56:21 +0000

We recently switched to a new CRM at SuperAgent, and with so many players in that space, the comparison shopping is a daunting process. Paul Greenberg’s exhaustive 2011 CRM Watchlist is a great place to start.

Long story short: we chose Batchbook for a number of reasons (in order): UI simplicity, met required feature set, and price.

What I want to talk about is what happened next:

A week after opening our account I received the industry-standard automated follow-up email “How is everything working out?”, but the signature was of the President of the company, Pamela O’Hara.

I replied directly with a couple of workflow suggestions and within a couple days received:

“Thanks so much for the message and for taking the time to give such detailed feedback…This is great stuff – [I'll] make sure we put it to good use. We’re working on a major update of Batchbook right now.”
signed, Pamela O’Hara.

I forwarded that to our sales manager which put him at ease with the product because he understands that we found a responsive vendor.

A elegant formula for service: send automated emails out from a real person, let your customers reply, then respond. So simple. So right.

Four Color Reporter Pen

jeremy — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 18:54:58 +0000

Oh, four-color reporter pen, you lend my thoughts such clarity with your red, green, and blue ball points. My graph paper pad has found a soulmate. With four colors and a durable plastic pocket clip, you are a least 2.5 times better than a normal ink pen.

Tube-Nosed Fruit Bat

jeremy — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 11:20:38 +0000

New to science; familiar to science fiction.

Travel Tip: Herbal Tea

jeremy — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 20:35:16 +0000

I grow weary of drinking tap water when staying in hotels, though buying bottled water is inconvenient and environmentally uncouth. A single herbal tea bag placed in room temperate tap water is enough to knock the yuck off of half a litre.

My tea flavors of choice: plum spice and orange-mango-cinnamon.

Herr und Frau Klein

jeremy — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 15:21:38 +0000

This playful sign above a boutique children’s clothing store in Vienna is forged from genius.

Remember?

jeremy — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 08:28:19 +0000

Remember when I juggled the baby tigers in the swimming pool? I was wearing cowboy boots. I have a picture of that day – in my mind. They called me the gentle juggler because the baby tigers were still sleeping. I told them to call me the gentle giant, but there was a man who was taller than me in the crowd.

Minstrels in Sevilla

jeremy — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 23:00:00 +0000

The minstrels gather for drinks and song after the statue of the Virgin is delivered to the cathedral.

Minstrels at the Feast of the Immaculate Conception from Jeremy Taylor on Vimeo.

riding along the wall

jeremy — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 16:12:03 +0000

This apartment building stands across from the ice cream shop on a tree-lined street that points toward the heart of the city.

I frequently ride by this building on my bicycle en route to the center for a few hours of working in a cafe or for drinks in the evening. There is a diminutive garden patch in the corner of the grassy lot where carnations and several stalks of corn grow.

During the afternoon the sounds of women beating rugs descends from the balconies and in the late evening all is silent except for the bustling of midnight bakers in the grocery down the road.

Often there is a gypsy girl, maybe nine years of age – sometimes younger, standing by the wall that traces the sidewalk in the midday sun. She watches me as I pass by, smiles, and calls me a whore or a motherfucker.