Dribbling Ink

I have so much homework to do that the fact I've even typed this much (pause, consider just how little I have typed to this point) is ludicrous. Then consider that I am going to talk about my fish, and all hope for my future (a M.L.A. degree) is lost. Look, I don't have time to charge my camera and take a picture right now, but I will later; however, I just don't understand my new fish. He is anorexic. Seriously. I've never seen him eat one food pellet. Periodically I drop a few pellets into his bowl just like the food container recommends. Every time, he goes through the same routine. He swims up to smell (do fish smell?)/ consider the food, pauses for a seconds, and swims away. Scribbles, my last fish, would eat every pellet I dropped into his bowl. I mean, I could drop like six in there and he would eat every one of them. Of course, the container only recommends two to three pellets every few days. I think Scribbles might have died of gluttony. My new fish doe

(Caption: Arkansas pwns LSU. This is the best caption. Ever. And it defeats the entire purpose of this blog.) Sports, literature, Arkansas. These are the supposed topics of this blog. I've got the sports covered; however, I'm slacking in my literature and Arkansas material. (I have fiction to post, but I still get nervous about posting my creative writing). I guess you could consider the Conversations as concerning Arkansas since everyone I've interviewed is from the Natural State (minus the imaginary conversations). Still, seeing as Dribbling Ink is the most followed blog concerning Arkansas (or at least pretending to be) on Networked Blogs, I feel I should write a blog about Arkansas -- or at least make an attempt to. Yeah, I am kind of a big deal in Arkansas, moving in on Scottie Pippen, Corliss Williamson, and Bill Clinton territory. Note: I started this blog on Monday...it's now early Friday morning. Needless to say the flow is gone, but the links are still r

(Caption: Kathryn refused to let me use a picture of her. I guess this is effective.) I write a lot of pointless blogs on Dribbling Ink; however, blogs like this make it worth it. It's always interesting to talk to other arists and creative people; it's even more exciting when you grew up with the person, which is this case with this week's interviewee -- Kathryn Richey. I've known Kathryn since kindergarten. In fact, in elementary school, Kathryn, Daniel Vangilder, and I morphed ourselves into three Arkansas Razorback basketball players: Corey Beck, Corliss Williamson, and Scotty Thurman. It's been a long time since then, but Kathryn continues to utilize her creativity in new ways. Jacob Cooper: Recently, very recently, you started posting pictures that you've taken on Facebook -- professional-grade portraits, I guess (everyone posts pictures on Facebook). You also started a group/business, Kathryn Richey Photos. So, how long have you been interested in p

(Caption: OMGosh! It's a giant tomato rolling at breakneck speed! Uphill!) Lists are dangerous. Write a list and the next thing you know it's the only thing you can do. I'm not much of a list person, especially "To-Do" lists. The most important lists to me are grocery lists. Of course, as my wife can attest to, food consumes me (Nope, not the other way around: "Food consumes me" is exactly the reason that studying English is useless. Any string of words makes perfect sense). The only reason I'm saying this is because I have an insatiable desire to post another list. I just posted a list on Monday. See...it's unstoppable. It's like those killer tomatoes in Attack of the Killer Tomatoes -- they just roll over you and squash you--well, tomato you (I think I just made a vegetable joke. Dang, this blog is going downhill quickly... like those evil killer tomatoes !). Whatever. You get the point? Next, I'll be trying to write my papers

(Caption: This may be lurking behind that greenish-yellow cloud of pollen.) March Madness. Spring break. My birthday. There isn't a reason to dislike March. In fact, there's every reason to be sad at its departure. Yup, it's that time of the year again. That time. The time we all hate. You know, that time? Oh, I mean that time. THAT time. If you're wondering, my wife would say this is how I talk about everything. But I'm not vague. IT'S THAT TIME OF THE YEAR. So, in honor of it being that time of the year again, I'm busting out a list. The top 10 reasons, in no particular order (ignore the numbering, it just makes it easier to read), to hate/love the post-March year. Hate... 1) The greenish-yellow cloud of pollen hovering over the world -- or, at least, Arkadelphia. I'm waiting for those bat/pterodactyl-like things to burst out of the cloud like in Stephen King's novella/film The Mist . 2) Getting older. Yeah, I know: it's always ha

Yup, I am going to talk to a holiday. Maybe a more appropriate title would be A Discourse on April Fool's Day. Heck, I just keep forgetting to find someone to talk to on Thursdays. I always think about it at the beginning of the week, but then work and college consume my week. Today, one of my co-workers said that I always apologize and act like I don't want to write this blog. Pssh...I never make excuses or complain. Well, according to Wikipedia -- yes, I said Wikipedia ; I can hear all my English teachers weeping; I feel like I am sinning anytime I mention or read Wikipedia , even if it's for useless things like this; Mama said Wikipedia is the devil -- April Fool's Day is first mentioned in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales . Who knew? Probably Dr. Atchley. (If you're reading this Dr. Atchley, which I know you aren't, but just in case, that is a compliment.) Anyway, who cares about where it originated or why or anything like that. The point of this blog is