The national spelling bee is tonight!
Normally i don't close on Thursdays, but a co-worker is enjoying a much-deserved vacation in Costa Rica, so it's off to work i go, in just a few minutes here. If i manage to close at 8:00 on the dot (basically impossible), and pedal home furiously without hitting any red lights (also impossible), then i will only miss about 20 minutes or so. Hmph. Right now i'm kind of wishing that Costa Rica didn't exist.
Found a 'y' in a small branch on the sidewalk; it looks just like a snail's adorable eye stalks. Also, there was an "x" in two cast away palm frond leaves at work the other day. Perfect as can be. i was tempted to stand on them, but sometimes when "x" marks the spot, it is not in a good way.
Found out i am an "eternalist", which means that i believe the past, present, and future are all true and real... unfortunately, i realized afterward that i don't really believe in the measurement of time at all, so this label is basically null.
Once, in middle school, i noticed a weird smell emanating from the kitchen. It was coming from the big, low, sliding drawer where we kept all of our potatoes. i went to check it out, because i hadn't watched enough horror movies yet.
i slid open the drawer carefully. It was very heavy.
i opened the hinged top.
And then my world was only fruit flies.
A great, disgusting swarm of them streamed out, heading right for my eyeballs, nostrils, and other soft places. i gagged at the smell and ran screaming into the backyard with my arms waving maniacally. Turns out some of our potatoes had gone rotten, and were just sitting there in that dark drawer, deliquescing. A lone fruit fly must have discovered this treasure, and thus the Great Fruit Fly Army was born. Just thinking about them down there, replicating, really skeeves me out. It also makes me think that we probably just should have eaten more goddamn potatoes that week. Ever since that day, i have had a huge problem with fruit flies... i would rather have my kitchen overrun with ants, or even tarantulas. ::shudder::
So i am reading The Kite Runner (fabulous book, so far!) these days. When the light from our star lamp hits the title words on the book's cover, it creates an amazing, otherworldly red. It is as if the letters are suddenly made of neon, or volcanically lit from within. As if the book itself was filled with bright, red-hot magma. i swear i must have sat there for five minutes, ruminating on this. Where is my mind? To be fair, it was past one in the morning, and tired is as tired does.
Bye for now.
Thursday, May 28
Thursday, May 21
Aaron Koblin
Take a gander at Ten Thousand Cents.
Using Amazon's Mechanical Turk service, Mr. Koblin has digitally rendered a one-hundred-dollar bill by parceling it out to be drawn by ten thousand random people in one tiny increment each, with fascinating results.
The end visual aspect is quite pleasing, especially if you have done this sort of artwork yourself (block-by-block type of stuff; not knowing what the finished product is supposed to be). The bill looks pretty great. But take a closer look, and you will see the variety within: the spot-on squares, alone with the mistakes.
Some of the participants took their work very seriously, considering the penny they were paid for their output. They went for color gradations, texture, scale– the whole shebang. Others almost seemed as if they couldn't be bothered to finish their tiny square: either they gave up right away, or even after what seemed like a solid initial effort. At times you may wonder what led the person to put down the mouse. Did their boss walk in? Teakettle begin to boil? Internet connection severed? We will never know. But watching these squares (okay okay, rectangles!) take shape before your eyes offers some interesting insights into human behavior.
If you are like me, you'll go for the (seemingly) blank, beige areas first, and marvel at how far some people go to get it just so. Then start clicking on each obviously-errant block to see why and how the mistakes were made. Watching as some folks take the hardest path possible can be maddening, indeed. It is balanced by the ones who take their time, consider the brush shape and size they will use, and then if they make it to a 3rd color, you know that they are in it to win it.
Have fun!
Using Amazon's Mechanical Turk service, Mr. Koblin has digitally rendered a one-hundred-dollar bill by parceling it out to be drawn by ten thousand random people in one tiny increment each, with fascinating results.
The end visual aspect is quite pleasing, especially if you have done this sort of artwork yourself (block-by-block type of stuff; not knowing what the finished product is supposed to be). The bill looks pretty great. But take a closer look, and you will see the variety within: the spot-on squares, alone with the mistakes.
Some of the participants took their work very seriously, considering the penny they were paid for their output. They went for color gradations, texture, scale– the whole shebang. Others almost seemed as if they couldn't be bothered to finish their tiny square: either they gave up right away, or even after what seemed like a solid initial effort. At times you may wonder what led the person to put down the mouse. Did their boss walk in? Teakettle begin to boil? Internet connection severed? We will never know. But watching these squares (okay okay, rectangles!) take shape before your eyes offers some interesting insights into human behavior.
If you are like me, you'll go for the (seemingly) blank, beige areas first, and marvel at how far some people go to get it just so. Then start clicking on each obviously-errant block to see why and how the mistakes were made. Watching as some folks take the hardest path possible can be maddening, indeed. It is balanced by the ones who take their time, consider the brush shape and size they will use, and then if they make it to a 3rd color, you know that they are in it to win it.
Have fun!
journeys.
If you have a few moments (okay, more like half an hour), sit with a cup of coffee and listen to some music while you watch the slideshow of winners' shots from the 2009 New York Photo Festival.
Just to give you fair warning, there is some unpleasantry. Birth defects, homelessness, stark death. But you will find joy, along with the pain.
My favorites were Elliot Ross's Animals series (those eyes!), Tyler Brown's single shot "Filamentis" (if anyone can tell me what this is a photo of i will love you dearly), Ernesto Bazan's photo book Cuba (multi-faceted wowness), and another photo book called Strangely Familiar: Acrobats, Athletes, and other Traveling Troupes.
i was also quite struck by student Ed Ou's honorable mention piece for the "Social Documentary Essay" category, Under a Nuclear Cloud. As i mentioned above, these are a bit hard to look at, but i have always been intensely drawn to the ramifications of the human race's development (and eventual use and misuse) of nuclear energy. Lastly, student Patrik Budenz's photo book Post Mortem knocked my socks off. At first i could barely look at these clear, intimate portraits of bodily death, but then i realized that this is a basic truth, pure and simple. So i began to see them through another lens, a photographer's lens. They are great shots, no doubt about it. The subject matter is (for me, at least) hard to grapple with, but i was able to set it aside, for the most part. There is still mystery in the simplicity of it all.
One of the truly amazing things about photography is the ability for those images to grab more than one individual and join them together somehow, even though geographically (and spiritually, socially) they may be thousands of miles apart. i don't doubt that there were others around the globe watching these same images along with me, and feeling their minds open up as their thoughts began to travel..... to travel..........
Anyway, here is a nice image of some daffodils (narcissus?) to make everything better. Toodles.
(via)
Just to give you fair warning, there is some unpleasantry. Birth defects, homelessness, stark death. But you will find joy, along with the pain.
My favorites were Elliot Ross's Animals series (those eyes!), Tyler Brown's single shot "Filamentis" (if anyone can tell me what this is a photo of i will love you dearly), Ernesto Bazan's photo book Cuba (multi-faceted wowness), and another photo book called Strangely Familiar: Acrobats, Athletes, and other Traveling Troupes.
i was also quite struck by student Ed Ou's honorable mention piece for the "Social Documentary Essay" category, Under a Nuclear Cloud. As i mentioned above, these are a bit hard to look at, but i have always been intensely drawn to the ramifications of the human race's development (and eventual use and misuse) of nuclear energy. Lastly, student Patrik Budenz's photo book Post Mortem knocked my socks off. At first i could barely look at these clear, intimate portraits of bodily death, but then i realized that this is a basic truth, pure and simple. So i began to see them through another lens, a photographer's lens. They are great shots, no doubt about it. The subject matter is (for me, at least) hard to grapple with, but i was able to set it aside, for the most part. There is still mystery in the simplicity of it all.
One of the truly amazing things about photography is the ability for those images to grab more than one individual and join them together somehow, even though geographically (and spiritually, socially) they may be thousands of miles apart. i don't doubt that there were others around the globe watching these same images along with me, and feeling their minds open up as their thoughts began to travel..... to travel..........
Anyway, here is a nice image of some daffodils (narcissus?) to make everything better. Toodles.
(via)
Tuesday, May 19
( ( (:vibrations:) ) )
So there was an earthquake 'round these parts on Saturday night. A magnitude 4.7, which is certainly not a whopper, but enough to make you look a little more closely at how secure your bookcases are.
We were out having dinner at the time, with a group of fine feathered folks, to say goodbye to a dear friend who is leaving the country. At one point i noticed something odd hanging from the rafters above a fellow dining-companion's head.
Allison, i said, if there's an earthquake, just make sure you move backwards really quickly!
She looked up and laughed. An odd, wrought-iron candelabra of sorts was dangling a few feet above her, holding two spoons and two (rather sharp-looking) forks.
When we found out later that night that there'd been a tremor around the same time we'd all been having dinner, she and i looked at each other immediately across the room.
What in the...?
Later, at an apartment gathering (the natural extension of many dinner-parties), i was outside on the back porch having a cigarette with friends, admiring a particularly robust and delicious-looking basil plant. Inspired, i pinched a leaf off, rubbed it between my fingers a bit, and threw it into my vodka-and-guava juice cocktail. Success! The basil flavor was not quite as strong as i'd hoped, and my explanation was offered up as we headed inside: well, it's not muddled, but it'll have to do.
Now, the very minute Nat's head popped into the living room through the sliding glass door, the first words he heard were "muddled basil". He stopped short, looked back at me with wide eyes. Entering the room, i asked the guy who'd uttered the phrase if he had just seen me drop the basil leaf into my drink.
No.
i don't even think he knew there was a basil plant out there. We were all a bit mystified, to say the least. i already have the crystal ball and the Tarot cards, now i just need to work on honing my skills.
(unless word gets out, and someone decides to persecute me for being a 'witch'. that would certainly put a damper on things.)
We were out having dinner at the time, with a group of fine feathered folks, to say goodbye to a dear friend who is leaving the country. At one point i noticed something odd hanging from the rafters above a fellow dining-companion's head.
Allison, i said, if there's an earthquake, just make sure you move backwards really quickly!
She looked up and laughed. An odd, wrought-iron candelabra of sorts was dangling a few feet above her, holding two spoons and two (rather sharp-looking) forks.
When we found out later that night that there'd been a tremor around the same time we'd all been having dinner, she and i looked at each other immediately across the room.
What in the...?
Later, at an apartment gathering (the natural extension of many dinner-parties), i was outside on the back porch having a cigarette with friends, admiring a particularly robust and delicious-looking basil plant. Inspired, i pinched a leaf off, rubbed it between my fingers a bit, and threw it into my vodka-and-guava juice cocktail. Success! The basil flavor was not quite as strong as i'd hoped, and my explanation was offered up as we headed inside: well, it's not muddled, but it'll have to do.
Now, the very minute Nat's head popped into the living room through the sliding glass door, the first words he heard were "muddled basil". He stopped short, looked back at me with wide eyes. Entering the room, i asked the guy who'd uttered the phrase if he had just seen me drop the basil leaf into my drink.
No.
i don't even think he knew there was a basil plant out there. We were all a bit mystified, to say the least. i already have the crystal ball and the Tarot cards, now i just need to work on honing my skills.
(unless word gets out, and someone decides to persecute me for being a 'witch'. that would certainly put a damper on things.)
Saturday, May 16
the tang of memory.
well, well!
Nat's mom bestowed upon us a couple of lovely little treasures, the Book of Trees and Wild Animals of North America. Both are diminutive in size, the latter no bigger than a postcard, and the bindings have begun to crumble away, revealing old stitches and yellowing glue. A (rather naughty) boy named Phillip William Knight was presumably the original recipient of these two teensy tomes; he has scribbled over more than half of the pages in Wild Animals, including the (now faded) color illustrations, but thankfully left the nicer color plates in the Book of Trees untouched.
The Book of Trees appears to have been published in 1939, and features such informative tidbits as: How a Twig Grows, Cross Section of a Leaf, How Fruit Trees are Grafted, and White Pine Board (showing grain).
Front and back covers:
Inside pages:
(i chose the paper birch for you guys because it is maybe my favorite tree. When i was a kid i would collect the catkins and sprinkle them as fairy dust into my multitudinous potions.)
Wild Animals of North America is much more basic, but no less enthralling. i can't find out when this one was published, but if you ever needed a basic run-down on the Ocelot, Marten, Chipmunk or Alaskan Fur Seal, this is your go-to guide.
(i decided upon the musk-ox here because, well, just look at the drawing! Outstanding.)
We can forgive them their mouldy odors because it is so stirring to imagine all of the eager pairs of eyes that have pored through their pages. Young, impressionable brains, hungry for knowledge, back in a time when the natural world was more revered than it is today. i only wish we had kept sacred much more of that respect, but one can always hope for a resurgence?
('scuse the weird image-editing. i'm not so great at this yet.)
Nat's mom bestowed upon us a couple of lovely little treasures, the Book of Trees and Wild Animals of North America. Both are diminutive in size, the latter no bigger than a postcard, and the bindings have begun to crumble away, revealing old stitches and yellowing glue. A (rather naughty) boy named Phillip William Knight was presumably the original recipient of these two teensy tomes; he has scribbled over more than half of the pages in Wild Animals, including the (now faded) color illustrations, but thankfully left the nicer color plates in the Book of Trees untouched.
The Book of Trees appears to have been published in 1939, and features such informative tidbits as: How a Twig Grows, Cross Section of a Leaf, How Fruit Trees are Grafted, and White Pine Board (showing grain).
Front and back covers:
Inside pages:
(i chose the paper birch for you guys because it is maybe my favorite tree. When i was a kid i would collect the catkins and sprinkle them as fairy dust into my multitudinous potions.)
Wild Animals of North America is much more basic, but no less enthralling. i can't find out when this one was published, but if you ever needed a basic run-down on the Ocelot, Marten, Chipmunk or Alaskan Fur Seal, this is your go-to guide.
(i decided upon the musk-ox here because, well, just look at the drawing! Outstanding.)
We can forgive them their mouldy odors because it is so stirring to imagine all of the eager pairs of eyes that have pored through their pages. Young, impressionable brains, hungry for knowledge, back in a time when the natural world was more revered than it is today. i only wish we had kept sacred much more of that respect, but one can always hope for a resurgence?
('scuse the weird image-editing. i'm not so great at this yet.)
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