Back scratchers, overdue shuffling and 1/100th of a second

What does it take to get people out there to vote? And to make an educated vote at that.

I think some sort of incentive is at hand, like a little Smarties candy packet or a special “I Voted” back scratcher. Maybe a complimentary tank of gas would get a few more, who knows.

I was thinking this morning, I have never voted for a Sheriff before, nor really paid attention to their doings around town. Have they done a good job, what do they do exactly? What is the difference between a Democratic and a Republican Sheriff?

And has anyone seen these Obama/McCain flip-flops, hilarious. It’s one of those things that in hindsight you wish you thought of.

So lately I took my iPod out to an open field. We sat there a while and reflected.

I realized that I’ve wronged it, I haven’t been there when I should have. I’ve been neglecting far too many songs and I realized that I don’t know it anymore. That’s why I’ve decided to keep it on shuffle until I’ve heard every song – that’s right, all 4,200 of ‘em. And there’s no skipping out on songs; I made it a point to listen to each song consciously and in their entirety. So wish me luck on this musical venture.

In other news, our Olympians haven’t been too bad for themselves. However, there’s one thing that bugs me. How do you deal with the fact that you lost the gold by 1/100th of a second. I mean, that’s nothing. It’s almost as if the computer punched in both swimmers times, realized they actually tied, and decided which one would win. That has to be it, c’mon, at least tie or something, do a swim-off, make them race again and have at least 5/100ths of a second between them.

Now Dara Torres is going to have to live with the fact that she is the 1st loser, and could have won if she hadn’t clipped a millimeter of excess nail off her fingers. Or something.

Well, even though it’s a shame that she didn’t get that shiny gold, I’m sure she’s perfectly content with her silver medal and is able to go home after five Olympics and say, “Hey, I just medaled in the Olympics, I’m 42, and I look damn good in a one-piece.”

So here’s to silver medals … and some bangin’ core muscles.

Aborigines, light writers and feed your head!

It takes a bit of magic to capture a portion of eternity.

Tell that to the Aborigines of Australia who still believe ones soul can be captured in a meld of polyester, celluloid, gelatin and salts that we call film. Even today they refuse to have their photographs taken.

My supervisor dropped a framed photograph of her husband in her office the other day and immediately called him saying, “Are you okay? Your photo fell and I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

What’s with the fascination of our souls being in this fluctuated state of being that can be taken or broken at any moment?

Are we that fractured that we can’t hold onto our own souls? Maybe that’s a bit much, I mean, it’s just a superstition. But it makes me wonder.

Did Alice have it right? What happens when we gaze through the looking glass? Do we journey through the past, take a peek at the future?

Even in the ancient cultures of the Greeks, Egyptians and Romans, mirrors were used for scrying, or looking into the future. Now, cameras are just a series of mirrors and projections of light. What does this say of photography?

Indeed, we are the light writers – the keepers of time.

I think it’s a way to capture our evolution. We struggle to document the tiny flucuations over time that we, as a human race, are subjected to. So what better way than to instill it in a concrete form. From this we learn not to forget; to not become extinct. Maybe our species was supposes to come up with the camera, to preserve ourselves for some greater generation of the future.

Maybe.

It seems we’re just tiny glass bottles filled with notes to be rescued from our desert islands; we are still so alone and longing to transcend our detached atolls.

Although this idea can make me feel small, I have to look at the bigger picture (please, no pun intended…really).

Recently, a special on the History Channel called Evolve, took the viewer through the evolution of the eye. It shows how dinosaurs eyes adapted over the millions of years to allow them to become great hunters. Many of our human adaptations have been left behind, making way for what helps us find food and survive. It also has some interesting points on how our society has adapted because of how we individually perceive it.

There has to be some greater purpose; what keeps us alive is our ability to see and to adapt to our immediate environment. It’s not rocket science here. But maybe in a future blog I’ll try and tackle rocket science in a complete dumbed down and uninvolved way.

Until then, feed your head!

For all of those light writers out there:

Read: Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll

Listen to: White Rabbit, Jefferson Airplane

Watch: Evolve, The History Channel

… F-8 and be there

“The Biker Nod”

The wind shrieked in terror.

“Jesus, man – you want to total your brains on this torrid concrete, keep on,” it might have said.

I’d just been sent out of a cannon, never mind the road shakes, this two-wheeled mule would trail on. I looked like a space cadet with a plastic shell over my dome, but it would protect my noggin from splattering all over the curb.

The spasms started to kick in; muscles tightened and the blood rose into my capsulized head, sending me spinning 15 degrees to the left or right, depending on which leg twitched, of course. And the tightness, like a wrench had grabbed hold and was making sure that damn pipe wouldn’t burst again.

The heat made my tires sink deeper into the scorched surface, bleeding rubber but still sustaining my force. It wanted none of this, in fact, it was due in for new hoofs a while back, but the road bellowed and the beast would laugh if I hadn’t made a stand today. So I would trail on, keep my whits about me, don’t look back because the sun will burn your eyes, right.

Maybe. But then again.

I was leaving a trace, the rubber scent picked up by a gang of riders, two by two, out of the backcountry, “How did they find me?”

I had left no trace to pick up, but this rickedy romp showed me no mercy, I would have to turn myself in. The wind forgot it’s many warnings; I felt abandoned.

You could feel them tear into your side, a flurry of thrust, a storm in the summer. They grouped like positive and negative charges, each had it’s purpose in the line, no weak link, all in perfect order and with equal force. These Hell’s Angels all matched in fluorescent-colored jerseys and locked into their vessels like they were a part of a machine. Instead of skulls and “M” patches on their shoulders, they wore logos, and you respected that.

The rush knocked me off rhythm, bullying me into a more sedated ride. They would disappear into the infiniteness ahead.

The duel could only have one victor, I wouldn’t make it out of this one today.

But then, something came from the opposing direction. The infiniteness in the distance somewhat warped my view, my eyes shuttered, maybe it was the heat again, it could make you see things out here.

In a whirlwind, the phantom steed closed in, forming cyclonic waves of dust behind him.

I had to face this, “Jesus, man, get on your yearling and ride this last one out.”

The wind pushed me up a bit, nagging me to carry on. I whipped and roared and honed in on my target, who was gaining even more speed now. 30 yards…20…15..10…and then…

His head lowered at my sight – 3 seconds he spend pondering pedals – and then rose his egg-shaped dome. What was this? A bow, an acknowledgment? The biker nod?

It seemed that even just for being out here, you are given a certain amount of respect. A little twitch of the head while passing, a slight raise of two fingers, a little wave. These little flashes keep you going,affirming that this populace of riders are still in it together. Maybe it’s our old-fashioned, do it yourself mentalities – a thing of the past one might say. Still, the draconian cars whiz by, leaving carbon exhaust for you to suck on, and you know they don’t get it. Their ruthless ways will soon be outlawed. A revolution is at hand.

And although the trails wane and our legs cramp, there’s a true grace in our little battles. We push each other to limits, and we don’t even know each other. The bikers have something wired up there, under that plastic skull, that connects us to the same circuit board. A way of life, maybe. A certain stubbornness to conform to societies norms – might be the case.

But these biker nods affirm a sense of belonging and keep me rolling along.

Harness the power of the sun in your handbag

Jane Palmer and Marianne Fairbanks began their textile quest at the School of the Art INstitue of Chicago. As an art project in 2002, they responded to the war in Iraq by deciding to make something that wouldn’t rely on imported oil. They came up with a series of handbags made of biodegradable material that can power your cell phone or iPod day or night.

Noon Solar

Cool.

http://www.noonsolar.com/

Doogie Howser’s Sci-Fi Sing-Along

Joss Whedon (creator of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Firefly, brings us his take on musical theater with Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.

Neil Patrick Harris stars as Dr. Horrible, an determined super-villain, who is constantly foiled by his nemesis Captain Hammer. Whilst his attempts in getting into the Evil League of Evil, he still has issues with talking to Penny, the girl in the laundromat. Yes, it’s a musical. And yes, it’s Joss Whedon’s newest endeavor. Enjoy, it’s a fun series.

Here’s the first song from the first episode, Laundry Day.

“Out there, there’s a world outside of Yonkers”

Catch the Sunday light before it fades. Maybe you’ll just break out in song and dance like these jazzy folks.

Radiohead – Aniboom Video Contest (Top 5 Finalists)

“…the Aniboom Video Competition, totally blown me away it has. How the hell you pick a winner?” – Thom Yorke

Humanity Lobotomy

http://www.savetheinternet.com/

from preoccupations.org

Carmensita – Devendra Banhart’s newest visual odyssey

Devendra Banhart recently released his newest video for “Carmensita” from Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon, featuring two of my favorite things – Bollywood and Natalie Portman.

It makes me want to shake my hips.

Emergence – The Spontaneity of Order

One of the most tantalizing and painstaking ideas of all time – emergence.

Revisit WNYC’s Radiolab attempt to answer one of life’s eternal questions.

Here’s a summary from WNYC.org

“What happens when there is no leader? Starlings, bees, and ants manage just fine. In fact, they form staggeringly complicated societies, all without a Toscanini to conduct them into harmony. How? That’s our question this hour. We gaze down at the bottom-up logic of cities, Google, even our very own brains. Featured: author Steven Johnson, fire-flyologists John and Elizabeth Buck, biologist E.O. Wilson, Ant expert Debra Gordon, mathematician Steve Strogatz, economist James Surowiecki, and neurologists Oliver Sacks and Christof Koch.”

Emergence

Check out more Radiolab at http://www.wnyc.org/shows/radiolab/

- or their free Podcast in the iTunes Store. Enjoy.