Vertically Challenged
Fiction writers are often advised to set the action of their stories within a confined space (a "crucible"). You'll find an extreme example of this technique at the Mood Elevator site. Press a button for your choice of 13 (or is it 14?) short Flash films, all set in an elevator.
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Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Word of the Day
Word of the Day
vaniloquence (n)
foolish talk
Philomena was unsure of how to respond when the partisans asked her opinion of Mr. Leuney's ridiculous speech. Noting that there was no dictionary in sight, she finally said, "I was so impressed by his vaniloquence."
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vaniloquence (n)
foolish talk
Philomena was unsure of how to respond when the partisans asked her opinion of Mr. Leuney's ridiculous speech. Noting that there was no dictionary in sight, she finally said, "I was so impressed by his vaniloquence."
_
Monday, April 18, 2005
Connections
Connections
Today I saw a guy wearing a necktie with the Twin Towers on it, against a red, white and blue background. I suppose those vanished buildings have become icons now, like the American Flag, the cross, Jesus, Elvis, and Marilyn. I see the towers on T-shirts, too. Can black velvet paintings be next? It may be tacky, it may be exploitative, but there is apparently some deep human need for touchstones of this sort. As if we might forget about these people or buildings or objects without constant visual reminders. Or perhaps people feel a need to advertise who they are through the icons they choose to display. I'm tempted to say this indicates a deep sense of insecurity, but I'm not sure how the Twin Towers fit that theory. "Never forget" seems to be the message there. As if we could. There may be other messages, too. Wear the World Trade Center on your flag-like necktie and you're saying . . . what? That the tragedy of the towers justifies certain actions? It's an ambiguous symbol, at least for me -- just as the magnetic yellow ribbons I see on cars are ambiguous. "Support the Troops," yes, but is that the only message? Does that equal support for the war? How exactly do these magnetic ribbons, which reportedly will damage a car's paint job, support people in the armed forces? If I buy one, does the money go to the USO or some other troop-supporting charity? (If it does, it's being kept very quiet.) If I was a cynical person, I might be tempted to say that these ribbons are just a cheap way to "support" the troops without having to endure any of the hardships usually associated with wartime -- like higher taxes or a draft or a shortage of gasoline. Of course, if I was the cynical type, I might sell neckties and towels and key chains with the Twin Towers on them, too.
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Today I saw a guy wearing a necktie with the Twin Towers on it, against a red, white and blue background. I suppose those vanished buildings have become icons now, like the American Flag, the cross, Jesus, Elvis, and Marilyn. I see the towers on T-shirts, too. Can black velvet paintings be next? It may be tacky, it may be exploitative, but there is apparently some deep human need for touchstones of this sort. As if we might forget about these people or buildings or objects without constant visual reminders. Or perhaps people feel a need to advertise who they are through the icons they choose to display. I'm tempted to say this indicates a deep sense of insecurity, but I'm not sure how the Twin Towers fit that theory. "Never forget" seems to be the message there. As if we could. There may be other messages, too. Wear the World Trade Center on your flag-like necktie and you're saying . . . what? That the tragedy of the towers justifies certain actions? It's an ambiguous symbol, at least for me -- just as the magnetic yellow ribbons I see on cars are ambiguous. "Support the Troops," yes, but is that the only message? Does that equal support for the war? How exactly do these magnetic ribbons, which reportedly will damage a car's paint job, support people in the armed forces? If I buy one, does the money go to the USO or some other troop-supporting charity? (If it does, it's being kept very quiet.) If I was a cynical person, I might be tempted to say that these ribbons are just a cheap way to "support" the troops without having to endure any of the hardships usually associated with wartime -- like higher taxes or a draft or a shortage of gasoline. Of course, if I was the cynical type, I might sell neckties and towels and key chains with the Twin Towers on them, too.
_
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
The Waiting Place
Every duplicate afternoon,
he, unnoticed,
passes beneath
the bridges of salesmen,
difference makers,
those who adore
both the sheep and the snake.
He of the carefully blank face.
Slowly, the temperature rises,
warm rains come,
the world sweats,
soaking empty factories
and detested creatures.
They have a certain peace,
hidden in rusty pivots,
in dropped feathers.
Water falls at night,
a monsoon, or God's mouth
strangely salivating
over so much grinding
and brick dust.
Torrents pool and drain,
washing years away
but bringing nothing.
_
The Waiting Place
Every duplicate afternoon,
he, unnoticed,
passes beneath
the bridges of salesmen,
difference makers,
those who adore
both the sheep and the snake.
He of the carefully blank face.
Slowly, the temperature rises,
warm rains come,
the world sweats,
soaking empty factories
and detested creatures.
They have a certain peace,
hidden in rusty pivots,
in dropped feathers.
Water falls at night,
a monsoon, or God's mouth
strangely salivating
over so much grinding
and brick dust.
Torrents pool and drain,
washing years away
but bringing nothing.
_
Friday, April 15, 2005
My Friend, Mr. Nobody
My Friend, Mr. Nobody
Observed on the street today: (1) an impossibly blonde woman with an impossibly wrinkled face leaning against a car, smoking a cigarette and having an animated conversation with no one at all; (2) a tall, doughy young man ambling down the sidewalk, pointing a finger in various random directions and quietly mouthing sentences. I suppose we all mutter to ourselves sometimes, at least internally. I know I do. But I don't talk to imaginary pals or adversaries "out there." Adults who do this are "crazy" by society's standards. Children can have invisible friends to play with or comfort them, but grown-ups can't (or shouldn't). And it's a shame, in a way. Think of how convenient it would be to have a companion who would pop up or disappear as needed, listen patiently to any sort of nonsense you care to spout and let you win all the arguments. We all need someone to talk to; otherwise our thoughts can only reverberate inside our own skulls--and that must be like living in a mirror-lined echo chamber. I suspect you would begin to wonder, after a while, if you really existed at all: an intolerable feeling. And so, those who are a bit "off" and have no one to talk to--or, at least, no one who will listen--conjure up an invisible confidant. That's my armchair speculation. And something else I wonder about: how therapeutic would it be to supply such people with blogs? Imagine a webring of schizophrenic bloggers, all ranting and responding and maybe even flaming each other. No, on second thought, I suppose that's just too far out a notion.
_
Observed on the street today: (1) an impossibly blonde woman with an impossibly wrinkled face leaning against a car, smoking a cigarette and having an animated conversation with no one at all; (2) a tall, doughy young man ambling down the sidewalk, pointing a finger in various random directions and quietly mouthing sentences. I suppose we all mutter to ourselves sometimes, at least internally. I know I do. But I don't talk to imaginary pals or adversaries "out there." Adults who do this are "crazy" by society's standards. Children can have invisible friends to play with or comfort them, but grown-ups can't (or shouldn't). And it's a shame, in a way. Think of how convenient it would be to have a companion who would pop up or disappear as needed, listen patiently to any sort of nonsense you care to spout and let you win all the arguments. We all need someone to talk to; otherwise our thoughts can only reverberate inside our own skulls--and that must be like living in a mirror-lined echo chamber. I suspect you would begin to wonder, after a while, if you really existed at all: an intolerable feeling. And so, those who are a bit "off" and have no one to talk to--or, at least, no one who will listen--conjure up an invisible confidant. That's my armchair speculation. And something else I wonder about: how therapeutic would it be to supply such people with blogs? Imagine a webring of schizophrenic bloggers, all ranting and responding and maybe even flaming each other. No, on second thought, I suppose that's just too far out a notion.
_
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Quote of the Day
Quote of the Day
"Desire's most seductive promise is not pleasure but change, not that you might possess your object but that you might become the one who belongs with it."
--James Richardson
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"Desire's most seductive promise is not pleasure but change, not that you might possess your object but that you might become the one who belongs with it."
--James Richardson
_
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
37 short experimental films
Cheeky
UbuWeb offers 37 short films (in .MPG format) from the experimental (and venerable) New York art group Fluxus. Included are three by Yoko Ono, the most interesting of which is perhaps Four, an excerpt from her famous/notorious "Bottoms" project. The end . . .
_
UbuWeb offers 37 short films (in .MPG format) from the experimental (and venerable) New York art group Fluxus. Included are three by Yoko Ono, the most interesting of which is perhaps Four, an excerpt from her famous/notorious "Bottoms" project. The end . . .
_
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
A Scene from Dragnet
A Scene from Dragnet
The State Police banged on my door today: two plain-clothes guys straight from central casting. They said that someone from this address had sent them a letter, signed only "H.R.," stating that there was criminal activity going on in the building. They wanted to know if I knew who "H.R." might be. I told them I didn't; there's someone who lives here whose last name begins with "R," but the first name doesn't start with "H." They wrote down everything I said and left. Hmm. I haven't seen any "criminal activity" going on, except for my bicycle being stolen from the basement last December. But they seemed to be looking for something more serious than that. Having endured urban apartment life for many years, I've shared a roof, at various times, with thieves, drug dealers and wife/girlfriend beaters, but things have been quiet around here lately. I wonder if this presages some new malefaction. Good thing I'll probably be moving this summer.
HR . . .
Honest Reporter?
Highly Reliable?
Hot Resentment?
Hoodlum Realty?
_
The State Police banged on my door today: two plain-clothes guys straight from central casting. They said that someone from this address had sent them a letter, signed only "H.R.," stating that there was criminal activity going on in the building. They wanted to know if I knew who "H.R." might be. I told them I didn't; there's someone who lives here whose last name begins with "R," but the first name doesn't start with "H." They wrote down everything I said and left. Hmm. I haven't seen any "criminal activity" going on, except for my bicycle being stolen from the basement last December. But they seemed to be looking for something more serious than that. Having endured urban apartment life for many years, I've shared a roof, at various times, with thieves, drug dealers and wife/girlfriend beaters, but things have been quiet around here lately. I wonder if this presages some new malefaction. Good thing I'll probably be moving this summer.
HR . . .
Honest Reporter?
Highly Reliable?
Hot Resentment?
Hoodlum Realty?
_
Monday, April 11, 2005
Word of the Day
Word of the Day
cosmotellurian (adj)
pertaining to both heaven and earth
"So, feet on the ground, head in the stars, eh?" said Mr. Dolty. The astronomer smiled patiently and said, "I prefer to think of myself as a cosmotellurian investigator."
_
cosmotellurian (adj)
pertaining to both heaven and earth
"So, feet on the ground, head in the stars, eh?" said Mr. Dolty. The astronomer smiled patiently and said, "I prefer to think of myself as a cosmotellurian investigator."
_
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Mr. Spungarn's Complaint
For a long time,
each ensuing day
held something of the same loss,
that slow burning
of wreckage better buried.
He doesn't do well in extremes,
armed with his useless bludgeons,
his razed expectations.
He still keeps the bones in a box,
grudges that can't be dissolved,
not in the acetic acid
of each half-final night.
It's spring now: such mockery.
The fragrance of cut grass
and a tree's sawed limbs
offends him.
"This is your legacy," says he.
"I keep thinking,
while holding a breath,
of those adamant blades."
_
Mr. Spungarn's Complaint
For a long time,
each ensuing day
held something of the same loss,
that slow burning
of wreckage better buried.
He doesn't do well in extremes,
armed with his useless bludgeons,
his razed expectations.
He still keeps the bones in a box,
grudges that can't be dissolved,
not in the acetic acid
of each half-final night.
It's spring now: such mockery.
The fragrance of cut grass
and a tree's sawed limbs
offends him.
"This is your legacy," says he.
"I keep thinking,
while holding a breath,
of those adamant blades."
_
Friday, April 08, 2005
A Walk in the Woods
A Walk in the Woods
Get away from it all: Forests Forever is a beautifully designed Flash site featuring lush photography of forests around the world, set to ethereal (but not too annoying) mood music. See you in the trees.
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Get away from it all: Forests Forever is a beautifully designed Flash site featuring lush photography of forests around the world, set to ethereal (but not too annoying) mood music. See you in the trees.
_
Quote of the Day
Quote of the Day
"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."
--e.e. cummings
TGIF
_
"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."
--e.e. cummings
TGIF
_
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