March 2007

Monthly Archive

A stupor of homogenous thinking took hold this week. I am even tired of magazines. I decided that the prevailing culture dominated by inbred circus media was getting me down. I always worry when I return to questioning the existence of museums. I was weak and embattled. Had Medialomania beaten me? Is Medialomania contagious? What is Medialomania? I

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looked up “medialomania” on Google and got five hits back. Two of which were domain name advertisers. One other was German and I can’t call the fourth. The fifth? Well, I stopped caring because something has to have more than five hits on Google to be anything. However, when I do that search post publishing, I will find myself on that list with the only firm definition of “Medialomania”. I hope. Is this not a good test of Google’s panopticism? Or should we all just wait for Wikisearch? (Which currently hosts an expired blog by a former board member). The details may play out in a soap opera script,

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or may not…. So allow me. –noun med.i.a.lo.ma.ni.a [mee-dee-uh-loh-mey-nee-uh] 1. Psychiatry, – institutional Psychiatry – the symptom of media corporations observable in offensive delusions of importance. Mediolomanic institutions will often get embroiled in adolescent ratings battles. Medialomanic activity increases proportionally to group size. Behaviours extend to racial profiling, empty headlines, long-sightedness, lack of context and human interest stories. – cognitive psychiatry – within human individuals medialomania is evidenced by mutations of institution medialmonia, that give rise passive rose tinted consumption of the world and its events. 2. Journalism – communicative psychology – the obsession of largess media with doing extravagant or grand things, eg graphics and scrollling headlines and a clock and a busy news room behind and five monitors and a nice silk tie, or “oo, look honey, she’s done her hair differently tonight…”. -adjective med.i.a.lo.ma.ni.ac [mee-dee-uh-loh-mey=nee-ak] 1. Of, pertaining to, or suggesting megalomania; a person. group or corporate boardroom that displays the symptoms listed above. [Origin: Wednesday, 28th March, 2007; media- + -lo- + -mania; media- + -lo- + maniac] I recently subscribed to the feed from the grandly titled Institute for Public Accuracy. I know nothing about the editorial team but I have enjoyed their strong opinion and bare journalistic swagger. This week I discovered photojournalist visionary, Fazal Sheikh, who is making the sublime legible. Edward Burtynsky is as brilliantly shocking as he is aggrandised by media elites. But aren’t there thousands of people doing work as human? Let’s see it. Let open source reign. Lets see the facts laid bare and let them be unobscured and unfiltered. I’d rather discomfort and awareness than sensation and numbness. A wise man once said, “If you are to choose between security and liberty, always choose liberty”. Journalism is not entertainment. Entertainment is predictable and voluntary. Journalism, with the world as its looking glass, is every possibility simultaneously and your a fully subscribed member. If entertainment is security and journalism is liberty, then the only question remaining is which do you choose? Allow the medialomanic corporations to continue their circus, just don’t turn on your TVs.

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Sunshine, cool breeze, pot of coffee down and crawling slowly up towards the base of the spine– pretty good for an earlyish morning walk to work… Passed Buena Vista and caught the locals cracking their breakfast 40oz.

Still confused despite the coffee and the shower and the leisure hour before needing to hurry to do anything… As I’m walking a woman is approaching with a stroller while dangling a four or five year old from one shoulder– they are catalogued as probable obstacles to be observed closer to contact and my thoughts wander off. When I check back on their progress they’ve started crossing the street I’m coming up on and I scan the terrain for my maneuvering. The four or five year old has succeeded in detatching himself from the more traditional piggy-back position to a semi-simian swinging down the woman’s back… One arm has been reached back so that she can contain the child… I give myself a wider berth than originally intended and wander off into my head again…

As they come up to the curb, as I come up to the corner, I notice that the four or five year old has begun sliding down the woman’s back and she reached with both hands to contain him… This leaves the stroller free to ride the slight incline of the street towards the gutter and it begins to explore the possibilities of motion with timid steps… She looks up from her wrestling match and gauges the stroller’s progress, then turns around to remove the little parasite completely from her back… I guess she’s got it, right?

But she didn’t have it at all and when I finally reached that conclusion and began running towards the stroller it had hit ideal velocity so as to elude both of our outstretched grasps… From a foot away, leaning forward and clutching at air, I watch the stroller collide with the curb and pitch forward– I catch a brief but detailed glimpse of a little blonde toddler whipping forward like a boneless chicken at a clown convention just before the arc had completed and the toddler and stroller slammed face-first into the sidewalk… Not very good with public speaking I tried a very loud and robust “Jesus!”…

Both the woman and I grab the stroller but we have different ideas about how to raise it from the sidewalk… My gentle lifting did not suffice and she instead chose to yank the handle back so that the boneless chicken baby inside whipped backwards with such violence my little lizard brain forced my arms out to grab the head of the child and steady it… There I am cradling some baby’s head as it begins howling– I let go of the kid… The woman is standing shocked, gaping, unsure– the four or five year old is staring at me with eyes of true hatred…

A cookie is inserted to the screaming baby and the howls stop… Red in the face, damp cheeked, but lacking obvious signs of trauma the baby begins to cover its face with crumbs… The woman looks at me and says, “I guess the carriage must have protected him somehow” and continues to stand and gape… I check the four or five year old who has not yet forgiven my existence and continues to glare at me in an attempt to cause spontaneous combustion… I find myself on one knee gathering little toys and baubles which have spilled out onto the ground in the crash… The happy little trio rambles off the way they were going… A woman halfway up the street I was crossing calls out, “Is the baby okay?” I guess so…

In other news I’ve recently signed up as a member of shelfari which resembles myspace for people who don’t have any personalities and try to impress everyone with their book collections… It might just be stupid but it could also be a way to share books you’re reading and find out about things that might interest you… It’s free and it doesn’t appear to have any evil corporate ties beyond the obvious amazon linkage… Sign up if you like and learn me some– my member ID should be familiar enough…

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I recently saw the Christopher Nolan (“Memento”) film The Prestige starring Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, and a mossy, disappointed-looking Michael Caine. The film began in a manner that has become formulaic: the opening image is a panning shot of dozens of top hats clustered on a grassy hillside. It is a seemingly mundane but also unusual image. A Michael Caine herbal viagra alternatives voice over begins, wherein he explains the three parts of cialis is there a generic a magic trick. These three parts are enumerated several times throughout canada pharmacy the film, so I will not rehearse them here–if you choose to see the movie you really let yourself in for about seven minutes of explanation in total, tallying the time for each reiteration. The prestige is essentially the dramatic release of a magic trick. Michael Caine’s voice over carries us to a scene where he–using his skills as a behind-the-scenes trick designer and act consultant–completes a magic trick for a little girl, its stages unsubtly punctuated by his voice over talking points. This scene is to be bookended at the movie’s close with a

badly executed, suspension-of-disbelief disrupting plot twist. From there a winding tale of professional competition, quasi-adultery, envy and revenge uncoils. The plot is driven by the pathologies of the competing magicians, who are cleanly divorced from humanity, social skills, and any recognizable india cialis emotional register. One character, for instance, seeks revenge against someone whose wife he killed. This occurs perhaps to drive home the fact that anyone is expendable in two mens’ quest to be the best magician, but it makes the entire plot feel like it’s trying to sew with its left hand. We are to assume that the cialis 20mg ou 10mg plot is right-handed–the universal and fundamental, culture-bridging urge to be a master magician notwithstanding. Despite canada drug pharmacy these narrative flaws, generally good performances by the numerous big name actors make it all seem OK. David Bowie is http://viagracanada-onlinerx.com/ in the movie, too. In truth, the only reason The Prestige merits mention is because of director Christopher Nolan’s knack for weaving what could be described as either a) philosophical conundrums, or b) cheesy mental puzzles to be loudly argued about in restaurants into the midst of his chaotic tales. can you mix levitra and cialis The movie contains two significant ideas, and the following paragraphs contain spoilers. Hugh Jackman obtains a machine from Nikola Tesla which the withering inventor warns him never to use, mentioning vague horrors. The horror is specifically the fact that the machine creates duplicates. The implications of this are suggested rather than explored, as generic cialis for sale the audience only realizes at the film’s end that Jackman has been accomplishing his tricks at the cost of his own life. At each performance, he drowns himself, trusting that the machine will

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deposit a duplicate in the theater’s upper rows. The question of whether or not he has been killed is fascinating insofar as it applies to our own lives. We have to trust that we will be here in five minutes, and do it so willingly that we almost always ignore the quantum, constantly regenerative nature of our existence, in favor of ascribing continuity to our infinitely individual experiences. The other idea is presented as a conceit, the subject of which is hesitation, which could be construed as some people’s need for a get online cialis prescription savior, a return to the security, absolution, and wholeness of our time as infants, or simply the need to have an end to a story. The audiences attending the magic shows in The Prestige are a few times times denied the promised resolution to the trick, on some india online pharmacy occasions because of a death on stage. Their dumb, disrupted reaction in the face of the unexpected is in marked contrast to the initiative and drive of the performers. The prestige is a dramatic lek za potenciju cialis release, one of the criteria for a performance to count as theater. Another is for the audience to know they are the audience and the performers to know they are performers. In theater it is safe to accept one’s role as a passive audience, and is http://cialiscoupon-onlinenorx.com/ in fact kind of ass not to. In life perhaps the opposite is true.

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But it’s not as simple as you think it is. I wish it was as simple as pigs versus kids.

Just when you thought that you’d successfully perpetrated the masquerade of adulthood there’s suddenly a squad car peeking in the corner of your eye. It was not passing and continuing down the street as squad cars normally do but had instead pulled into the bus stop which I was walking alongside. The cop in the passenger seat was looking at me and I stopped to look back at him. The mostly full can of beer I had in my hand was prodding various parts of my mind and not in that kindly manner which a mostly empty beer can tends to prod. Feeling a little embarrassed I waved the can in an attempt to convey my sheepishness at so obviously flaunting this display of vice. No reaction could be discerned so, not knowing what else to do, I began to continue my trek home. “Hold it!”

Police Car

My little brown bag had provoked some interest, it seems, but not as much as my leaving. The cop on my side of the black & white asked me what I was carrying. I told him. He asked if it was open. I told him it was. The two cops looked vexed but not in a manner which said,” you’re a horrible person corrupting the morality of the people” so much as it said, “you’re wasting our time lowlife”. The cop on my side (I’d like to think of him as my cop) told me to pour it out. (more…)

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Thirty years of working just to put food on the plate. Once you went to Paris but the place wasn’t that great.

Before the European adventure became a right of passage for recent college graduates visiting Paris seemed to be strictly a behavior of the ultra-rich, idealistic artistes and Joe-Schmo working-man after securing a good percentage on a mortgage and a decade straight of enduring helpful suggestions from the wife about how to blaze through the meager savings desperately accrued through hard labor and drinking the cheaper beer. Most never made it across the Atlantic and it’s a wonder that Hawaii hasn’t become the island version of Las Vegas. (more…)

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