from the spam
Well as someone once said, “When the word is out it belongs to another.”
Deadbeat Diary, 4
It’s a slow day on the internet and I guess that means it’s about damn time I write this (previously on Clusterflock).
I’ve actually been trying to write this for a few weeks now but can’t quite capture exactly how it feels. Cheap metaphors didn’t really work and a factual description fell short of what I want to convey. I tried making the investor into a villain…and the realtor and the government and the bank and myself and the builder and…
The truth is I don’t know how to write about what came next.
Our first offer was in. It was made clear to us that our only option was to accept the offer and wait. We were told not to wait for more and at the same time that the bank would probably decline such a low offer. It was about getting in the system. It was about making our intentions clear.
At this point we were still current on our mortgage. Alicia was still working. And getting in the system seemed important. How long could it take for them to decline our offer?
We waited.
The bank requested bank statements, tax returns, paystubs, a hardship letter…
We waited.
Levi was born.
We waited.
Sometime in late November the Realtor told us the investor wanted some concessions. They wanted us to sign a promissory note and bring cash to closing.
No thanks, we said.
The bank would not approve the offer.
It was time to start over.
I realized later the investor had no incentive to sell. As long as we continued making our payment, the investor continued getting a monthly check. Our mistake, perhaps, was trying to do it right – trying to anticipate the moment we wouldn’t be able to afford our payment and take action before it came to that.
We missed our first payment in November.
dear clusterflock
Talk to me.
weehuggers
Alicia is researching cloth diapers for Levi and thought this video was something the flock might enjoy.
nearly translucent larval eels
This is a short video of an eel in the larval stage. Pretty stunning how beautiful, and almost invisible, they are.
Over the 20th century, biologists searched for the at-sea breeding grounds of various eel species, which migrate thousands of miles from inland waters to specific open-ocean locales. The journey is made in reverse by their offspring, with the translucent larvae becoming literally more substantial as they swim towards an adult home.
Click through to get an understanding of how misunderstood eels have been as a species.
code as a weapon
Cafe And Mercury Colony Park. U. S. Highway 90, Dryden, TX 78851
artist’s rendering out of context
density and difference
Mule Design Studio compares Twitter and Google+ designs.
Quack
Aaron texted this to me the other night. Cudos Kudos if you know what it’s from. Also, Tim Carmody pointed to a duck meme on Twitter.
Zombie
Renner posted a lovely short fiction at Fictionaut.
headline of the day
Bullshit, Jesus, Those Are Obviously My Footprints
Early morning conversation
Daryl: Germans like bananas.
Cindy: How do you know?
Daryl: I saw a show about Germans and bananas.
from the spam
icedog says:August 8, 2010 at 9:58 pm
Summer Pudding
As many of y’all know, I am one of those Americans who loves England and Englishers. Sometimes people even think I may have lived there, I am so steeped in English ways.
But I’m still conflibberated by the concepts of Pudding and Dessert. I mean, I know what I consider pudding, and generally speaking, I’d place pudding within the larger category of dessert. Except for the Yorkshire pudding my English grandmother made. It is the idea that any dessert might be considered pudding that baffles me, and in any event I think I have got the idea wrong. I don’t know the rules.
So I give up. And dream of the perfect summer pudding, whatever that might be.
Tat Musing
“O, lady on bus, I think one day you will regret your cupcake tattoo.”
My friend Alison. Musing en route home.
I told Alison I’d thought long and hard before I got my own tat back in the wayback days.
Read more
Great Big Saturnine Storm
At its most intense, the storm generated more than 10 lightning flashes per second. Even with millisecond resolution, the spacecraft’s radio and plasma wave instrument had difficulty separating individual signals during the most intense period. Scientists created a sound file from data obtained . . . at a slightly lower intensity period.
If you listen vary carefully to the audio file, you can hear Sun Ra.
spam name
Staverton Bardolf
the greatest
After The Mavericks won the NBA Championship, Muhammad Ali sent Dirk Nowitzki a gift.
SPIEGEL: Did any German politicians call to congratulate you?
Nowitzki: I think that (German Chancellor) Angela Merkel called my adviser. I’m not totally sure. But do you know what made me the happiest?
SPIEGEL: What?
Nowitzki: Muhammad Ali sent me a package.
SPIEGEL: What was in it?
Nowitzki: A boxing glove with the inscription: “You are the greatest.” Please don’t ask me immediately about the political meaning of the gift. I was simply happy and sent Ali a golden basketball with a similar inscription.
Melting Birds
and other melting things. (via It’s Nice That)
Typeface for Dyslexics
via @jmoc
Let me see how much these little things are
dear clusterflock
I’m curious what everyone is reading these days. I’m almost through my library stack and need some recommendations. Really I’m just trying to find ways to avoid my yearly attempt at reading Anna Karenina.
Narrate that, emmer effer
The head of a woman murdered by her housekeeper in 1879 has been found in David Attenborough’s garden.
Julia Martha Thomas, a wealthy widow aged 55, was killed by her 29-year-old housekeeper Kate Webster very close to Park Road in well-to-do Richmond, but her head was never found.
The case became known as the ‘Barnes Mystery’, which gripped London at the time.
Webster, a convicted thief and fraudster, chopped up Thomas with an axe, boiled the remains and gave the dripping to local children to eat.
A box containing human flesh was found in the nearby River Thames days after the killing and one of the victim’s feet was found on an allotment.
from the comments
Well, I can’t imagine being out in the desert. Or in the Arctic. Or the Great Lakes in winter like that film Shelia posted about. Those places scare me. In the desert you have not just the climate but bad people who would rather kill you than look at you. You can die in the freezing cold in no time at all. The bugs will seem to be eating you alive in the swamp, but eventually you toughen up and don’t feel them anymore. You have to watch for snakes and and maybe gators depending on location, but they don’t want to see you either. You can hide easily. People get so weirded out by the swamp you don’t generally encounter too many there. If you do, you can stand stock still and stare a hole through them and they’ll think you’re a haint and flee. Trust me on this one.
