Author: foxtongue
today’s headline has me in tears
For those of you who are still unaware, the three children that died in the cabin fire at Shuswap Lake belong to Kim and Johnathon, the co-founders of Vancouver’s Electric Company Theater.
I am shocked and so, so sorry. They have all the love in my heart.
I can’t stop crying. I might have to go home.
he’s coming your way!
A small thin child with a mullet just trespassed into our office to sell us sketchy boxes of chocolate. “Hello, I am part of a program to keep kids like me off the street. I am selling delicious boxes of scrumptious chocolates in an effort to raise money. Even buying one box of these delightful treats will help.” His spiel was so practiced he sounded like a well oiled automaton. How many times a day must he say that? Why is he in our office? Who on earth told him to use the word scrumptious??
I did not buy a box, but the sales guy did, and now I have eaten one of the dubious choco-almonds. If I die frothing at the mouth, know that I loved you all.
I”m still proud of this picture
China’s finale, 2007
It’s that time of year again! Come on down for The Celebration Of Light, Vancouver’s annual pyro-festival.
Tonight’s competitor is Canada, with the theme of the Wizard of Oz.
I’m going to go down right after work to lay out the big purple blanket for everyone at the usual spot here, right by the water at first beach, just off east of the water slide.
Show at 10, camping starting at 6. I’m bringing cherries, feel free to bring whatever or whomever you like.
leaving the curse behind (story seed, a letter)
Tony illustrating a point with my picture and
a frame from one of my favourite music videos,
Elbow – the Bones of You
Video: Alasdair on a gigantic plinth in London as part of an art project.
Instead of going to Michael’s office after work yesterday, I went to the shop and got stick-on blackboard for the fridges, (both the one here and the one in Seattle), and scoured my way through Chapter’s cheap section looking for books about painting and colour, to try and better pin down what would be nice in the bedroom, (both here and in Seattle). I felt alone in the city, dislocated, as if my movements were an echo of someone else’s long past afternoon, a pattern of motion left like a mark on time, waiting for the right kind of lonely to step into it to manifest.
Eventually I shook it off, bought bus-tickets and a slurpee and went home, uncertain what my plans were, not thinking about it, reading a discount Hannibal Lector book and wondering what I needed to feel present in the day.
Thankfully David was home when I got in, and about as aimless as I was, so it was we found a mutual solace in finally tackling neglected projects around the house, our new sticky tape blackboard our starting off point. We folded away winter blankets and hung art and mirrors to Temple of the Dog and Live until eleven at night, when it was decided that continuing to bang nails into the wall might be crossing the line from antisocial to fully justified murder. Much of my art still needs to be framed, so most of what’s left isn’t going anywhere until some future pay-cheque, but it was mighty refreshing to get a start on what’s been on our To Do list since possibly last summer. The only thing that would have make the evening better was if I had a head full of hair dye, but again, of all things, that one will not hurt to wait.
Epistemology, the study of the properties of knowledge and truth
Perpetual motion, like a spring wound in a heavenly kingdom. I can feel potential building, the tension of seasons, of thrilling decisions, of a grand tipping point somewhere near, almost as touchable as the closest horizon. Somewhere soon I will find a solution, the magical arrangement of pieces that will let it all out, create an escape for the pressure, allow me to blossom into the next incarnation of exquisite useful flower.
My internal barometer is, in part, my hair. The farther I neglect the colour, the more I know something needs to change. Now, for the first time in many years, I am only negligently dyed off my natural red blonde. Another is my music. When was the last time I practiced the saw, running rills, songs, and scales meant only for me?
David comes home, our lovely neighbor Randa in tow, “Why do you have a colander on your head?” “Oh!” I say, disingenuous, whisking it off my head, “I had company.” I spend eight hours on the bus every weekend, waiting in travel to see Tony or to get back to Vancouver in time for work, and close to five hours every week waiting for Michael, who gets out of the office around an hour after I do, so we can travel home together, but to myself I only seem to find a handful of ten minute increments where I can feel creatively infected, ripe with the mental control of whispering ghosts, where I have space enough to make.
This selection of habits grew so slowly, so organically, that it was confusing me, how little time was suddenly available. It wasn’t until I counted the hours on my fingers, waiting at a street corner for a light to change, that I realized what started as moments few enough to blink away has expanded, accumulated into enough minutes to fill an entire day a week of my eaten time spent stilled, ineffectual, accomplishing nothing, creating nothing, being merely a body, adding nothing to the world but a physical space.
This, among other things, perturbs me at the level of bone.
To that end, however, as I cannot afford a tool with which to fix this problem, and the other things are other stories, what colour should I dye my hair?
with thanks to will
Today on Aardvark, for which I have invites:
Aardvark said:
You there? I have a question about **secret agent**.
Andrew Ferguson said you might be able to answer it.
(Type ‘sure’, ‘pass’, or ‘busy’.)
devastation jhayne, she said:
sure
Aardvark said:
(From Nikhil B./22/M/Stanford,US)
How does one get to be a member of KGB?
(Type ‘pass’ to skip, or ‘more’ for extra options.)
devastation jhayne, she said:
write a book about an old man and the sea
Aardvark said:
Great — I’ve sent that to Nikhil. Thanks for the fast answer!
(Type ‘Nikhil:’ followed by a message to add something, or ‘more’ for options.)
(Tip: type ‘add’ to add **secret agent** to the list of topics you like answering questions about.)
—
ps.
aferguson says:
“FYI: Jhayne Holmes just answered Nikhil’s question about **government**. Thanks for the referral!"
COILHOUSE 3 is on sale now!
COILHOUSE, the smoothly wicked paper-child of Nadya, Zoetica, and darling Mer, is now selling Issue 3!
Today, to celebrate, they’ve posted a tour of the magazine, which includes such treats as Xeni Jardin riding a unicorn, a searing collection of photographs from the Kowloon Walled City, and a Brief Tour of Pre-War Russian Pulp by author Jess Nevins.
I can’t even pretend I’ve the extra money, but I’ve already bought my copy. It’s the only magazine I buy. I love COILHOUSE like I loved Mondo 2000, not only as a beautiful magazine stuffed with the sort of fascinating ideas that help shape our culture into more what I want it to be, but also as a lovingly crafted, stylish, sleek, and super sexy art object d’fetish. They’re so pretty I leave them conspicuously out when I am done reading them, solid space advertising, so guests to my home will see them and take note.
Also, for the hardcore fan, which I can not afford to be, they also have t-shirts and stickers.
the day I chipped my tooth on his pierced tongue
“I love you like I’ve never loved anyone,” he says. Later I lie awake, unable to follow him to sleep. I sit up a little, just enough for his curly head to shift from my shoulder to my lap. I watch him, silent, until I finally whisper, “I think I feel safe here,” aware he will not hear or know any of this in the morning.
nicola tesla as david bowie as nokia
Nokia developing phone that recharges itself without mains electricity
A new prototype charging system from the company is able to power itself on nothing more than ambient radiowaves – the weak TV, radio and mobile phone signals that permanently surround us. The power harvested is small but it is almost enough to power a mobile in standby mode indefinitely without ever needing to plug it into the mains, according to Markku Rouvala, one of the researchers who developed the device at the Nokia Research Centre in Cambridge, UK.
The difference with Nokia’s prototype is that instead of harvesting tiny amounts of power (a few microwatts) from dedicated transmitters, Nokia claims it is able to scavenge relatively large amounts of power — around a thousand times as much — from signals coming from miles away. Individually the energy available in each of these signals is miniscule. But by harvesting radiowaves across a wide range of frequencies it all adds up, said Rouvala.
The trick here is to ensure that these circuits use less power than is being received, said Rouvala. So far they have been able to harvest up to 5 milliwatts. Their short-term goal is to get in excess of 20 milliwatts, enough power to keep a phone in standby mode indefinitely without having to recharge it. But this would not be enough to actually use the phone to make or receive a call, he says. So ultimately the hope is to be able to get as much as 50 milliwatts which would be sufficient to slowly recharge the battery.