Antarctic Research Bases
From a slide show of the state of the art in Antarctic Research Bases.
Researchers have occupied this site continuously for 54 years, creating an invaluable scientific record. (The man-made hole in the ozone was first identified here, so the coordinates are crucial in tracking the state of the atmosphere.) But staying put is not easy. The Brunt Ice Shelf moves as much as half a mile a year, like a conveyor belt built to toss tea-drinking scientists into the icy sea. So the old station is being abandoned as it moves toward the abyss. This new base, however, is more like an RV than an A-frame: Several ski-shod pods get towed back to their original positions as the ice shelf moves.
Dear clusterflock
I have this one soap I love so much I never use it.
I was going through a difficult time in my life, I was working on adding muscle
Alex Chilton | “My Rival”
Video footage by William Eggleston, from “Stranded in Canton,” of Alex Chilton and Sid Selvidge playing “My Rival” in Memphis, TN, circa mid-1970s. Video property of the Eggleston Artistic Trust.
Stranded in Canton is the title given to multiple versions of compiled video footage shot by William Eggleston in 1973 and 1974. The Alex Chilton segment does not appear in any of the recently edited versions shown in public; I’ve read that Chilton, like many of those captured in Stranded, did not like the way he looked in the footage and refused permission to include it.
Alex Chilton died on March 17 at the age of 59. Not long after, the Eggleston Trust released this footage. It makes for a heartbreakingly lovely tribute; I only this morning discovered it.
Dear Clusterflock
I dreamed we were all singing, and everything was alright.
The notion of illusory superiority
UCLA economists Dora Costa and Matthew Kahn analyzed the impact of an energy-conservation program in California that informed households about how their energy use compared with that of their neighbors. While the program succeeded in encouraging Democrats and environmentalists to lower their consumption, Republicans had the opposite reaction. When told of their relative thrift, they started cranking up the thermostat and leaving the lights on more often.
The Journey
Our Lucy has posted a terrific Flickr set devoted to images of her three-day journey from Copenhagen back to Ireland.
Things Not to Say When Visiting
Talking to you is like having to live in a beige house.
When you speak my teeth hurt.
Try to forget more.
What you say makes me not want to eat ever again.
Stinkin’ to high heaven
There may be images of dead animals here, so Cindy should push play and then minimize the window.
Engineering poetry
Inside a 1943 copy of Fifty Sayings by Master Chuang, translated and inscribed by Dirk H. van der Stucken to my grandfather, Caleb D. Elliott, Jr., on his eighteenth birthday, I found a yellowed sheet of paper watermarked “WHITING MUTUAL BOND” and folded over on a poem. It’s typewritten, with a question at end that I now pose to you.
I met a wandrer in an ancient bar
Who said to me: New England is no more!
All is destroyed from Hudson to the Shore,
And the whole country is one livid scar.Boston, a heap of rubble and tar,
Is gone, as other cities went before,
But further north, I saw a single door
Still standing, and discovered from afarA corner of a room that had escaped.
I entered: Lo, a fireplace, quaintly draped.
A little further stood a moldy drinkBeside an empty bottle of Vermouth,
And on a Mata-drawing, strange, uncouth,
Lay two crossed toilet-brushes painted pink.Caleb D. Elliott jr.
Sir —
Do you think the Mirror would take this? I should like to have your opinion.
My grandfather was a petroleum engineer so it’s not like I’ve found the early writings of Nabokov. But I am charmed by his youthful words, and I can’t stop wondering who this capitalized mirror is.
Roxborough CO, 24Apr2010
Red Van In The Trees. Arkansas Highway 23, Huntsville, AR 72740
I was hot-tailing it towards Danny and Rick.
William Eggleston: Democratic Camera
William Eggleston. From Untitled from Los Alamos, 1965–68 and 1972–74 (published 2003). Private Collection.
© Eggleston Artistic Trust, courtesy Cheim and Read, New York.
Ssshh. This is just between me and all y’all, but I am skipping the final session of the Midwest Archives Conference meeting in favor of heading over to the Art Institute of Chicago for the William Eggleston retrospective.
Alfa Romeo TZ3 Corsa
Following Zagato’s gentlemen-driver heritage, the car has been commissioned by the Alfa Romeo Zagato collector Martin Kapp, during the Zandvoort Tribute to Zagato event, where more than 130 Alfa Romeo Zagatos were celebrating the 90th Anniversary of the brand.
God. Damn.
two man bicycle kick!
from the spam
I want to cook a whole lamb, and need to know its dimensions — its length, and basically its circumference, including any legs that might be sticking out.
Spumante Italia. Hotel Xenia, Amnisos (Αμνίσος, Κρήτη) Crete.
A hotel whose decline I have been following for years. This last trip I found the reception open. Oddly, when I returned it had been locked up, not before I had rescued some of those glasses! If you are interested in the series so far you can view them over at Flickr.
On this visit I made the mistake of going there on a Saturday and during a holiday. It seems to be, how can I put this, something of a meeting place. I tried to make it perfectly clear that I was there for photography. I was carrying a tripod although there appeared to be many mono-pods on display! Jan sat and read in the car, but it would seem that she was getting just as much attention there. She said it was the busiest derelict hotel she had ever been to.
When I take a girl out I always make it somewhere special.
quote out of context
Chief Deputy Doug Harp said the man, 52, had been neck-deep in the combination of hog and dog feces for at least an hour Tuesday evening. He later became combative and had to be shocked twice with a stun gun.
quote out of context
“That’s a great metal sculpture. I have a nice fist-fuck joke. I guess we have nothing else to say.”
Littleton CO, 23Apr2010
My latest [blog] crush
Sunday Williams of Anger Burger fame.
For starters, she has this series called Respect Your Elders and it’s about sharing the clippings recipes her great-grandmother collected like jammy mayonnaise and burger loafers. She’s written open letters to a grocery store and cereal manufacturer that bring me to tears with laughter. Here’s an example:
Dear Trader Joe’s,
It’s true that we’ve had some beefs. I’ll always wonder why your aisles are so narrow — I know, you claim it’s because you rent the smallest possible stores to keep costs down, but seriously, we know you do it to instill a sense of panic in us. And I ignored for years that you sold trawl-caught fish. And I think it’s vaguely infuriating that you eliminate popular products made by other companies just as soon as you find a supplier who can mimic it under the Trader Joe’s name.
But for the most part, you’re the reason I can afford to eat organic sugar in my tea, and for another weird reason your plain regular soy milk is seriously the best soy milk I’ve ever had. How is it so creamy without the addition of oil? And the Empire chicken? Lord don’t get me started on the Empire “No Really, We Actually Are Number One” chicken. I’m not Jewish, but I’m sure glad those chickens are. Were.
No, what I want to discuss are the solicitors outside.
I know you put up a sign that says that you don’t endorse them, and yes, technically you have no power over what someone is doing on the sidewalk outside your store, but in particular the location on La Brea? What the fuck, you guys? You probably remember me because last year I complained about this creepy, aggressive 20-something man who was shilling products to help save children from cleft palates¹ who kept stepping in front of me and blocking my way into the store? Yeah hi, I’m that lady. The lady who keeps complaining [...]
So clusterflock, what about you? Are you crushing on a blogger out there somewhere?
Hey
Is it anybody’s birthday?
for posterity
Waiting For Money
My next fictious novel, in the style of Samuel Beckett.
dear clusterflock
I drink out of the pickle jar.
