The Great Silence

... humans create such beautiful myths; what imaginations they have. Perhaps that’s why their aspirations are so immense. Look at Arecibo. Any species who can build such a thing must have greatness within it.

My species probably won’t be here for much longer; it’s likely that we’ll die before our time and join the Great Silence. But before we go, we are sending a message to humanity. We just hope the telescope at Arecibo will enable them to hear it.

The message is this:
You be good. I love you.

- Ted Chiang

Monday Night Lecture

S'more from my McLuhan interviews

"You were sitting on the floor in the pool of light. Sworn in, levels of entry. It was performance oriented, great way to keep an audience; the smell of smoke and the brandy a direct reflection of who he was. At lectern he could have had notes, but not during the Monday nights. He had been doing this stuff for years, very familiar with it. Made bad jokes, proud of his triple pun. 'There were three brothers and they ran a cattle ranch they called Focus. 'Cause that's where the Sun's Rays Meet. Or the Sons Raise Meat.' Liked the three words that could go either way, played on words all the time. Talked about strippers, 'They aren't naked, they put on their audience and wear their audience like clothes...' it's published somewhere..."

* Susan Gerofsky April 10, 2012

Philosophical Wax: A hair product for geniuses

   This morning I woke up to a crazy sound that I mistook for some technological device going awry. It was a high pitched note that disintegrated into something I have no other words to explain except that it was an 'alien like' tone... I ignored this and turned over to go back to sleep, annoyed at what I assumed to be the constant construction and or traffic below my window. I was awoken again by the noise, again I ignored it and willed myself back to sleep, but when I was awoken a third time I decided to get up and put my ear plugs in. This time however the noise was more localized and accompanied by a banging on my window. I investigated further to discover a demented seagull trying to be a woodpecker. It stood on my sill slamming its skull repeatedly against the glass. The poor chaps' beak took this beating for quite some time (I had been ignoring the tapping for a while), amazed at his fortitude,           I crouched down to look at him... he stepped back, looked to the side as if uncomfortable that I had caught him in his irrational fetish. He took a couple steps back, head still to the side. Then with a moment hesitation, as if he was at a point of indecision, flew off. I heard no more space ship noises and knocking on the window for the rest of my morning slumber. Weird bird.

Vancouver Ladies

A new housing project opens in the DT Eastside!

Ooooh Isabella

Oh my god I love her... Amazing Isabella Rossellini

The Dance of Death

Danse Macabre

raison d'etre

The apple of my eye