tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82496834619050126732024-02-26T10:17:55.908-05:00hope for the flowersdigital baubles, curios, and trinketsmichelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-21566062321007570502023-11-06T09:52:00.009-05:002024-02-26T10:12:21.590-05:00a teen and his friends would eat breakfast every Wednesday morning before school at his grandmother's house. after his death at only 15 years old, his friends continue the tradition, with up to 30 kids showing up to eat breakfast with his grandmother: https://wapo.st/3u2RLek michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-2969720922938740722023-08-14T14:47:00.003-04:002023-08-14T14:47:19.229-04:00in Ukraine, in wartime, people continue to meet up to dance in a basement night club.
https://www.npr.org/sections/pictureshow/2023/06/23/1181790637/ukraine-night-club-photosmichelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-30516946085534700052023-05-30T22:51:00.003-04:002023-05-30T22:53:30.093-04:00invest in more public pianos: https://youtu.be/ehQb3zQkUIcmichelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-67213111799162734032023-03-20T21:03:00.005-04:002023-05-30T22:54:05.157-04:00everything I need in a music video - lcd soundsystem's new body rumba at the end of white noise, playing while the characters dance through the aisles of an A&P grocery store that is absurdist, gloriously rich in color and texture and movement, and satirical of the naive capitalism of the 1980s.
https://youtu.be/nJblPY5hVHImichelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-48600377269606706532022-12-14T10:09:00.004-05:002022-12-14T10:09:40.353-05:00<p>koko the clown doing cab calloway doing st james infirmary blues in betty boop's snow white (1933). koko's mesmerizing dance moves were rotoscoped using callaway's real movements. </p><p>https://youtu.be/aDATXtewPrg </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-83318506756600107972022-11-30T13:48:00.001-05:002022-11-30T13:48:04.939-05:00our mothers as we never saw them: https://nyti.ms/2pxF04k<div><br />
edan lepucki</div>michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-91813435275540880532022-11-30T13:45:00.003-05:002022-11-30T13:45:45.296-05:00when a man was having a mental health crisis in a train in canada, an older woman reached out to hold his hand. he calmed down and held her hand silently until he got off the train twenty minutes later. when asked by a bystander, the woman said, "i'm a mother and he needed someone to touch... don't fear or judge the stranger on the bus: life does not provide equal welfare for all its residents."<div><br /></div><div>https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3453050/I-m-mother-needed-touch-Heart-warming-moment-elderly-woman-held-hand-aggressive-scary-train-passenger-touches-thousands.html</div><div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div>michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-90366446714001788602019-10-14T10:16:00.000-04:002019-10-14T10:16:05.952-04:00<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"one of the sad things today is that so many people are frightened by the
wonder of their own presence. they are dying to tie themselves into a
system, a role, or to an image, or to a predetermined identity that
other people have actually settled on for them. this identity may be
totally at variance with the wild energies that are rising inside in
their souls. many of us get very afraid and we eventually compromise. we
settle for something that is safe, rather than engaging the danger and
the wildness that is in our own hearts. (o'donohue)</blockquote>
<br />
"because no composite of fragments can contain, much less represent, all
possible fragments, we end up drifting further and further from one
another’s wholeness, abrading all sense of shared aspiration toward
unbiased understanding. the censors of yore have been replaced by the sensitivity readers of today, fraying the fabric of freedom — of speech, even of thought —
from opposite ends, but fraying it nonetheless. the safety of conformity
to an old-guard mainstream has been supplanted by the safety of
conformity to a new-order minority predicated on some fragment of
identity, so that those within each new group (and sub-group, and
sub-sub-group) are as harsh to judge and as fast to exclude “outsiders”
(that is, those of unlike identity-fragments) from the conversation as
the old mainstream once was in judging and excluding them. in our effort
to liberate, we have ended up imprisoning — imprisoning ourselves in
the fractal infinity of our ever-subdividing identities, imprisoning
each other in our exponentially multiplying varieties of otherness.<br />
<br />
"to liberate ourselves from the trap of identity, o’donohue implies, requires not merely an awareness of but an active
surrender to the transience that inheres in all of life and engenders
its very richness:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"one of the most amazing recognitions of the human mind is
that time passes. everything that we experience somehow passes into a
past invisible place: when you think of yesterday and the things that
were troubling you and worrying you, and the intentions that you had and
the people that you met, and you know you experienced them all, but
when you look for them now, they are nowhere — they have vanished… it
seems to me that our times are very concerned with experience, and that
nowadays to hold a belief, to have a value, must be woven through the
loom of one’s own experience, and that experience is the touchstone of
integrity, verification and authenticity. and yet the destiny of every
experience is that it will disappear."</blockquote>
<br />
from maria popova's <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2018/01/01/john-o-donohue-walking-on-the-pastures-of-wonder/" target="_blank">"a gentle corrective for the epidemic of identity politics turning us on each other and on ourselves"</a><br />
michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-11476058770587590962019-08-14T13:24:00.003-04:002019-08-14T13:24:45.273-04:00people in arizona are adapting to a warming climate by hiking, working, and playing when it is cooler outside - at night or during a rainstorm. <br />
<br />
for more, read the photoessay <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/climate/phoenix-heat.html?searchResultPosition=1" target="_blank">as phoenix heats up, the night comes alive</a>.<br />
<br />
one commenter suggests splitting the day into two parts separated by a wine at lunch followed by an afternoon siesta.michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-25102829470692269862019-08-07T10:44:00.002-04:002019-08-07T10:44:37.797-04:00“if the concept of God has any validity or any
use, it can only be to make us larger, freer and more loving. if God
cannot do this, then it is time we got rid of him.”<br />
-james baldwin (quoted in george yancy's <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/07/opinion/gun-violence-god-philosophy.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage" target="_blank">dear god, are you there?</a>)<br />
michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-65434704012031264432019-05-03T21:55:00.001-04:002019-05-03T21:55:46.011-04:00the times set old photographs of rainy new york city days <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/03/nyregion/new-york-rain-vintage-sights-and-sounds-of-a-soaked-city.html?emc=edit_ne_20190503&nl=evening-briefing&nlid=7142058820190503&te=1" target="_blank">to a soundtrack</a>.<br />
<br />
says one visual historian:<br />
<br />
"visual records like photographs identify different sources of sound present in the environment, such as animals, vehicles, tools, musical instruments or alarm devices. but while the visual content is neatly bounded by four sides of a photograph's frame, sound is less well-behaved. it doesn't respect boundaries much at all. so a photograph of a city street scene will reveal clues to many of the sounds heard by the people on that street at that moment that photo was taken. but the sounds that dominated the scene might have been located just out of the frame - a fire truck approaching from down the block, for example." <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="" class="css-1h6w7uo e1t57l6r0" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2019/04/24/lens/24rain-ast-36/24rain-ast-36-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&auto=webp&disable=upscale" itemprop="url" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2019/04/24/lens/24rain-ast-36/24rain-ast-36-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&auto=webp&disable=upscale" style="opacity: 1;" /><span class="css-8i9d0s e13ogyst0"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="css-8i9d0s e13ogyst0">teen boys in chinatown, june 1968 (don hogan charles / the new york times) </span></div>
<br />michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-88012679111052392382019-03-06T16:20:00.003-05:002019-10-28T12:50:08.500-04:00<div dir="ltr">
stephen's house, filled with mosaics and tchotchkes and color, was started with his partner donald. after donald and his parents passed away, the house became a personal shrine and outlet for his feelings of grief and abandonment. later, when he opens his house to public (he doesn't know why he started to do this), his house becomes a sort of communal place to honor life and lives lost.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<a href="https://www.vice.com/en_uk/article/j5a35g/the-man-who-lives-inside-his-dreams">the man that lives inside his dreams (by joe zadeh)</a></div>
michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-72574560034831844632019-02-18T11:42:00.001-05:002019-02-18T11:43:48.529-05:00marina abramovic and ulay - formerly passionate lovers and performance art collaborators - in a piece called "the other- rest energy" (1990)....<br />
<br />
the sounds in the video pick up marina's quickening heartbeat and breath as love's arrow points precariously at her heart.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QcaaVZrUC44" width="459"></iframe></div>
michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-80318423644233715182018-12-20T09:36:00.004-05:002018-12-20T09:36:57.184-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="Umegawa in Sagami province.jpg" class="mw-mmv-final-image jpg" crossorigin="anonymous" height="425" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/94/Umegawa_in_Sagami_province.jpg/1024px-Umegawa_in_Sagami_province.jpg" width="640" /> </div>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</div>
<br />
"all i have produced before the age of seventy is not worth taking into
account.<br />
<br />
at seventy-three i have learned a little about the real
structure of nature, of animals, plants, trees, birds, fishes and
insects. in consequence when i am eighty, i shall have made still more
progress.<br />
<br />
at ninety i shall penetrate the mystery of things; at one
hundred i shall certainly have reached a marvelous stage; and when i am a
hundred and ten, everything i do, be it a dot or a line, will be alive."<br />
<br />
-katsushika hokusai michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-86345333938673168592018-12-14T09:08:00.001-05:002018-12-14T09:08:54.861-05:00<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
it will pass, friends
tell me. you know it in your head, but your heart is a torn punching bag
with the stuffing falling out. after more than a decade of nurturing
and feeding and picking up and dropping off and helping with homework
and braiding hair and supervising play dates and fighting battles and
holding hands to cross the street, you are suddenly shut out. the
bedroom door is firmly closed. every now and then i knock and go in, but i always feel like an intruder.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
i yearn for those nights when my daughter, paulina, couldn’t sleep and i
spooned her tiny body in the recesses of mine, her warmth commingling
with mine, putting us both into a coma.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
...</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
i know. i know. i remember how i treated my mother at that age. not wanting to talk to
her, much less walk near her on the sidewalk. i became enraged when she
secretly looked in my diary, obviously snooping for information about my
pot smoking or sex life.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
but
now that i had my own teenage girl, i realized for the first time that
my mother wasn’t even looking for anything incriminating. she was simply
looking for me. trying to catch a glimpse of the girl she had given
birth to, the full-grown person she had nurtured who was now walking
swiftly away from her.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
...</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
i had never asked to see paulina’s feed. i didn’t even know the name she used. but a thousand followers?</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
that
night, i got up the nerve to ask paulina if i could follow her on instagram. miraculously, she said yes, shrugging as she walked up the
stairs to her room. i grabbed my phone, and suddenly, there it was: paulina’s life. in black-and-white and full color.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
there
were photos of her girlfriends hanging out in the bathroom at school,
friends goofing around at a spot they call venice in gowanus, where brooklyn teenagers go after classes, and a great shot of all the boys’
skateboards piled straight up in someone’s hallway. an artistic shot of
an empty, rumpled bed in a friend’s room in rockaway. a lonely place
setting in a japanese restaurant. not just photos, but beautifully
framed photos. taken by my daughter.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<aside class="css-1m2ozyi"><span></span></aside><div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
social
media has been blamed for ruining our democracy, shortening our
children’s attention spans and undermining the fabric of society. but
through it, i was able to be with paulina out in the world again, to see
what she sees, to virtually stand beside her and witness the people and
places she moves through, in nearly real time. not in a parent-policing
role, but in a wonderful-world sort of way.</div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
~from "rediscovering my daughter through instagram," by helene stapinski (nytimes) </div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
<div class="css-1ygdjhk e2kc3sl0">
<br /></div>
michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-10140368803223105892018-10-01T22:51:00.001-04:002018-10-01T22:51:34.906-04:00could we truly create an artificial intelligence similar to humans, and if so, what is it that makes us human that we have to figure out how to quantify to turn into a computer?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
we watched the movie her and joe's initial thought was that the movie portrayed AI as too human, that some things just didn't make sense. but you could conceivably produce a robot and program it to take in visual data, references, and social cues, which is pretty much all we are as humans? (or are we? some say we have a soul--i think that's wishful thinking). but there has to be something unquantifiable that makes us human, right? maybe what makes us human is not that we interact, think, and remember--but that we forget or react without thinking? a robot would never just not do something based on a calculation--everything would be calculated. that is the very premise of AI. it might be able to do something unexpectedness (randomness could be programmed) or silly (based on social cues), but could you program like the loss of pieces of memory--memories that could be jogged through interactions that make you say, deja vu, or whatever? is deja vu the essence of humanness?</div>
michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-54546991927649983912018-10-01T22:49:00.001-04:002018-10-01T22:49:18.340-04:00"lomas’s <a href="https://www.drtimlomas.com/lexicography">positive lexicography project</a>
aims to capture the many flavours of good feelings (some of which are
distinctly bittersweet) found across the world, in the hope that we
might start to incorporate them all into our daily lives. we have
already borrowed many emotion words from other languages, after all –
think “frisson”, from french, or “schadenfreude”, from german – but
there are many more that have not yet wormed their way into our
vocabulary. lomas has found hundreds of these "untranslatable"
experiences so far – and he’s only just begun.<br />
<br />
"learning these
words, he hopes, will offer us all a richer and more nuanced
understanding of ourselves. 'They offer a very different way of seeing
the world.'"<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
examples:<br />
<ul>
<li><strong>gigil</strong> (tagalog) – the irresistible urge to pinch or squeeze someone because they are loved or cherished</li>
<li>i<strong>ktsuarpok </strong>(inuit) – the anticipation one feels when waiting for someone, whereby one keeps going outside to check if they have arrived</li>
<li><strong>wabi-sabi </strong>(japanese) – a “dark, desolate sublimity” centred on transience and imperfection in beauty</li>
<li>s<strong>ehnsucht </strong>(german) – “life-longings”, an intense desire for alternative states and realisations of life, even if they are unattainable</li>
</ul>
...<br />
<br />
"but studying these terms will not just be of scientific interest; lomas
suspects that familiarising ourselves with the words might actually
change the way we feel ourselves, by drawing our attention to fleeting
sensations we had long ignored.<br />
<br />
"'in our stream of consciousness – that wash of different sensations
feelings and emotions – there’s so much to process that a lot passes us
by,' lomas says. 'the feelings we have learned to recognise and label
are the ones we notice – but there’s a lot more that we may not be aware
of. and so I think if we are given these new words, they can help us
articulate whole areas of experience we’ve only dimly noticed.'" <br />
<br />
"if you are better able to pin down whether you are feeling <em>despair</em> or <em>anxiety</em>, for instance, you might be better able to decide how to remedy those feelings." <br />
<br />
-<a href="http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20170126-the-untranslatable-emotions-you-never-knew-you-had?" target="_blank">robson, the untranslatable emotions you never knew you had</a>michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-73754234432749785042018-09-14T23:40:00.001-04:002018-09-14T23:40:07.204-04:00"in 1545, jacopo da pontormo scored a major commission
from duke cosimo I de’ medici to paint the main chapel of florence’s
church of san lorenzo. a contemporary of masters like michelangelo, pontormo was a distinguished but aging artist who was eager to secure
his legacy. pontormo knew he needed to make these frescoes the
crowning achievement of his career, so he sealed off the entire chapel. he built walls, erected partitions, and hung blinds so that nobody could
steal his ideas or sneak an early peek. trusting no one, he chased away
local youth and kept human contact to a minimum. he spent eleven years
holed up, painting christ on judgement day, noah’s ark, and creation
itself.<br />
<br />
"pontormo died before his work on the chapel was done,
and none of it survives, but the legendary renaissance writer vasari
visited the site soon after the painter’s death. he reported a confused
composition and unsettling lack of alignment, scenes that ran into each
other every which way. robert greene
writes, “these frescoes were visual equivalents of the effects of
isolation on the human mind: a loss of proportion, an obsession with
detail combined with an inability to see the larger picture.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
"his isolation skewed his perception of the big picture."<br />
<br />
-peper, why seclusion is the enemy of creativity michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-78506700650058029752017-05-01T07:54:00.000-04:002017-05-01T07:54:22.466-04:00at night i listen to their phantoms<br />
shouting in my ear<br />
shaking me out of lethargy<br />
issuing me commands<br />
i think of their tattered lives<br />
of their feverish hands<br />
reaching out to seize ours.<br />
it's not that they're begging<br />
they're demanding<br />
they've earned the right to order us<br />
to break up our sleep<br />
to come awake<br />
to shake off once for for all<br />
this lassitude.<br />
<br />
claribel alegria, nocturnal visitsmichelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-56585439631730376042017-04-12T10:03:00.004-04:002017-04-12T10:04:47.752-04:00<span class="st"><em><br /></em></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KRQo-B9hObHdEfNTIZ1UI9KpXPnV6iV7o9NVvle7GEyLQhm2txL_eLYNUI2HTDCgdQN0T0OZYofkcTBn3V27czxoWHqzU12l7S8AOtnEczJJ2nT9XIt44umQ6aB5o0RwgJL8yRySjNno/s1600/pink+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KRQo-B9hObHdEfNTIZ1UI9KpXPnV6iV7o9NVvle7GEyLQhm2txL_eLYNUI2HTDCgdQN0T0OZYofkcTBn3V27czxoWHqzU12l7S8AOtnEczJJ2nT9XIt44umQ6aB5o0RwgJL8yRySjNno/s400/pink+blue.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="st"><em>one can speak poetry just by arranging colours well</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="st"><em>(van gogh)</em></span></div>
<span class="st"><em><br /></em></span>michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-78350799140770662912017-02-24T12:41:00.000-05:002017-02-24T12:41:13.372-05:00<a href="http://heartography.nikon-asia.com/" target="_blank">What if emotions could take photographs? Nikon creates a heart rate sensitive camera that takes a photo when you (or an animal) get excited.</a><br />
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michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-75251567393577855382017-01-22T12:34:00.004-05:002017-01-22T12:34:50.220-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2015/9/17/1442490205711/87ca0384-f011-422b-bfeb-a3118cebb3dd-2060x1236.jpeg?w=700&q=55&auto=format&usm=12&fit=max&s=def06e9fdd9b9dda1cfa960c13302fff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2015/9/17/1442490205711/87ca0384-f011-422b-bfeb-a3118cebb3dd-2060x1236.jpeg?w=700&q=55&auto=format&usm=12&fit=max&s=def06e9fdd9b9dda1cfa960c13302fff" width="320" /></a></div>
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“I was learning the craft of poetry, which really was an intensive
version of what my mother had taught me all those years ago—the craft of
writing as the art of thinking. Poetry aims for an economy of
truth—loose and useless words must be discarded, and I found that these
loose and useless words were not separate from loose and useless
thoughts.”</div>
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(Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me)<span id="quote_book_link_25360188"></span></div>
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</span>michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-56542445655988490882016-12-08T12:16:00.000-05:002016-12-08T12:16:05.379-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdyo8UBytQJF0-I6zPsRrRHUFEj6IeTJn-neiiMOVpE3iu1LrWP4g284VR_5XsUHwekVa3jO0nMaxkfGdWBIVshbkhXammW727xXThyEPLWQEo1xHrarD2_wJyEhFpxuqibXiVpMoVc9_/s1600/becareful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdyo8UBytQJF0-I6zPsRrRHUFEj6IeTJn-neiiMOVpE3iu1LrWP4g284VR_5XsUHwekVa3jO0nMaxkfGdWBIVshbkhXammW727xXThyEPLWQEo1xHrarD2_wJyEhFpxuqibXiVpMoVc9_/s320/becareful.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-81311973785636544892016-06-28T13:32:00.003-04:002016-06-28T13:32:30.293-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2016/06/20/health/well_alzh3/well_alzh3-tmagArticle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2016/06/20/health/well_alzh3/well_alzh3-tmagArticle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
medical anthropologist dana walrath uses graphic medicine to chronicle three years of caregiving for her mother alice in her new book aliceheimer's: alzheimer's through the looking glass:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;">I started making “Aliceheimer’s” comics before I knew that graphic medicine existed. Watching Alice — a lifelong reader who was finding straight prose too hard to track — eat up books like “Maus,” “Persepolis,” “American Born Chinese” and “Fun Home” when she lived with me, made me certain that to tell our story I wanted to use a form that a person with dementia could access.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;"> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;">My father had read [Alice in Wonderland] it out loud to us as kids, and during dementia Alice and I often recited parts of it together. But the day I cut up a cheap paperback copy of “Alice in Wonderland” to depict Alice’s bathrobe, her favorite garment, I knew I had found the voice for the story. Life with dementia is filled with alternate realities and magic, both scary and uplifting. Accepting wonderland as our baseline made day to day life an adventure.</span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2016/06/20/health/wellalz1/wellalz1-tmagArticle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2016/06/20/health/wellalz1/wellalz1-tmagArticle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 23px;">The dominant zombie story of bodies without minds strips people with dementia of their humanity and interferes with creating new kinds of familial connections. How many of us have the privilege of knowing our parents as children? Through connection we heal. Comics lead us to light because, subconsciously, we associate comics with laughter, and we need permission to laugh at sickness and not just describe it in medical terms. Laughter is respite. It opens new possibilities for how to cope.</span> </blockquote>
(from <a href="http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2016/06/21/alzheimers-disease-as-an-adventure-in-wonderland/" target="_blank">the nyt interview by nancy stearns bercaw</a>)michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8249683461905012673.post-28622332250903664882016-06-22T15:58:00.001-04:002016-06-22T15:58:21.465-04:00kintsugi is the japanese art of repairing something with gold, silver, or other material. though there is apparently commercial appeal in this technique right now - it is all over home design websites - the beauty of it is in its practicality. we so often throw things away when they become imperfect, rather than celebrating the beauty of age, wear, and breakage. but only in the last few decades have we become so obsessed with status and buying and displaying wealth that we can just toss something and move on, rather than create memories or histories.<br />
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<br />michelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07295850368279682389noreply@blogger.com0