On sports fandom and mystery

A week before the Superbowl I had delusions that I would do my daily writing practice that day. All other bets were off, no plans for daily exercise or flossing or anything I normally feel bad about skipping, but I wanted to still write. How grand it would be to get fresh notes on this high holy day, to notice and capture all that happens on a frenzied, rare Superbowl Sunday. No matter what happened, I though, I would write an essay on my history as a Broncos fan, or my family, or...something along those lines. On this elusively important thing in my life called football.

On hand lettering.

It was the summer of 1997 when I learned the very basics of hand lettering and graphic design. I got a break on tuition at a fancy summer school, so I got to hang out with a bunch of rich kids doing pottery and photography instead of remedial math. It totally made up for the fact that I never went to Summer Camp. I signed up for Commercial Art. Our teacher refused to acknowledge desktop publishing software and insisted we learn to hand letter. At the time it seemed nutty, but I loved handlettering.

On the genesis of this blog.

This has been a long time coming. A train far away, a seed in the earth, a storm building...there are a bunch of metaphors I could use but let's just say: This isn't some flash in the brainpan.

I once kept an online diary. I was 16. It was semi-anonymous because this was the mid-90s and Google hadn't yet formed the internet in its own image.

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