Call me Farquaad
I went back to the hairdresser's to get it cut a bit shorter (bc of course I did), and now I hate it bc this fuckass bob looks so harsh now. She cut my hair straight across instead of vertically cutting into the ends so now it looks so blunt. I should have spoken up but alas, I did not. Just call me Farquaad.
After my haircut, I went to this tiny cafe around the corner for a coffee and croissant, which was utter perfection. I sat down and stayed a while, people-watched, and then got four macaroons on my way out. I've never tried macaroons. They were spectacular, and I can't believe I've gone through life thus far without trying one.
happy dog
K and I went to the park the other day and Muskoka found a soccer ball in the field. I snapped a few pics and he's never looked happier. What a little munchkin.
Progress pic of my new zine
Back to a simple one-page zine this week.
Quiet Media
I bought the inaugural zine, Quiet Media by Charlotte Rubesa, and it arrived yesterday. So beautiful. 15 contributors write about design, attention, and creating things with depth > speed. My favorite piece was The Bed Was Never Meant For This by Rebekah Guilar. An essay on how our beds are a place for so much living: sex, love, rumination, and now, bed rotting with our phones.
I also loved My Rebellion Against The Rush, a poem by Marko Roth.
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