(note: while in Halifax I pulled out my old “real film” 35mm SLR, so there will be some non-digital up here for awhile)
This city, job and space-time location as a whole are driving me insane. Thus I am retiring to do very little and enjoy the ocean in Halifax for the next week or so.
If I can get near a computer that will accept my memory card reader I will do my best to post something within that time frame. Otherwise you can all be confident that I am dead, and start mourning.
If you are in Halifax and want to hang out e-mail me ( jer at simianuprising dot com )with whatever information you want to give me. I won’t be doing much so my schedule is pretty open.
You should all do something fun while I’m gone. Seriously, go to the pool.
p.s. My brother, Brian, made it through the operation and is A O K. He is still pretty messed up, but I hear from reliable sources that The Morphine is helping keep that fire under control. You know it.
Catching up on my Wired news and found this mind-boggling story about a company that has actually cloned two kittens (Baba Ganoush and Tabouli) from it’s CEO’s bengal (Tahini), and is offering the service to the public for 50,000$ each.
“the company says it’s less interested in the scientific questions and medical promise of cloning and more interested in its business model – helping people make copies of their beloved pets.”
August 16, 2004
Today, A Brother is forced to drink four liters of a liquid who’s goal is to rid his piping of the various substances that make him a human, and, unable to complete this task, is forced to take medication which removes the natural urge to expel said liquid orally.
Today, A Brother has bucket’s worth of water passed through his body, hungry and miserable.
Today, A Son tells his mother that she should not cry, that he did not mean to make her cry.
Tomorrow, he will sleep as his body is altered forever, brought up to par.
Tomorrow he will have new and improved insides, a head full of drugs, and several weeks of intense boredom ahead of him.
Now, he just wants to sleep.
August 16, 1986
Today, a new son is born, named Peter, for the rock.
Soon, he will be taken from all by the malignancy of his own mind. By a brain which could not handle this world, nor it’s radiation.
Still a toddler the universe ends for him, a memory never truly grasped.
Eighteen years from today his younger-brother-to-be will enter hospital, on the birthday of majority that will never be.
Neither will drink alcohol to celebrate.
[note: I changed the title of this post because I was getting like twenty google hits a day from people searching for “Fuking kds” and it depressed me to see them all in the logs. GO AWAY CHLD PORNGRAPHY SEEKERS! THERE IS NONE HERE!]
Alternately, you can just read the comic (archive), which will blow your mind. Seriously.
Most people have heard of adbusting, or culture jamming. The idea that the best way to fight fire is with fire, and that culturally we must re-appropriate the images that swarm around us for our own uses. Advertising and billboards become, in the eyes of the Adbuster, material for composing a new dialog with those around them, a way to convey ideas that would normally attract no attention at all (hint: people will actually look at something more if there is a stupid logo they have been sold on it, even if they’d rather not).
Good idea right? So good, apparently, that the advertisers themselves have decided to get in on the act, using the visual splendor of public art to draw eyes towards their repetitious and numbing billboards (Click Picture at right for larger view)
This was one of the finest and most prominent pieces of semi-spontaneous urban art in Montreal. It made excellent use of the space, both physically and psychially provided it, and generally spruced up a neighboorhood that was lacking in such colorful creativity. Now it’s just a big eye-grabbing backdrop for a demi-food hocking corporation.
Seriously though, is anyone else craving a bacon salad?