Owlet Caterpillars of Eastern North America
My same friend Susan who brought us the critically acclaimed Omega Institute in Your Pants, 2010 edition today supplied the following list, from the book Owlet Caterpillars of Eastern North America by David L. Wagner, Dale F. Schweitzer, J. Bolling Sullivan, and Richard C. Reardon:
Sordid Snout
The Herald
Feeble Grass Moth
Dead-wood Borer
The Betrothed
The Little Wife
Serene Underwing
The Consort
Dejected Underwing
Inconsolable Underwing
Tearful Underwing
Sad Underwing
The Penitent
Sappho Underwing
Youthful Underwing
Darling Underwing
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tweet of the day
“Anus”entered the English language in 1658. Uranus was named by the guy who found it in 1781. So that fucker knew exactly what he was doing.
— Andy Daly (@TVsAndyDaly) January 8, 2012
the inverse of the American Dream
Photographer Doug Rickard used Google Street View to find pictures for his latest show at the Museum of Modern Art.
According to Rickard, this epiphany fused immediately into a crystal-clear idea: He would use Street View as his camera and, working from a room in his home, travel the roads of neglected American cities and neighborhoods in a 21st-century “road trip.” This single idea would utterly consume his life for close to two years, resulting in the important body of work “A New American Picture,” a selection of which hangs today in the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
The Cake That Makes Our Family
Read between the lines of an old family recipe and you’re liable to read the story of the family itself. The scrawled marginalia and cooking stains, the collective memory of shared feasts—they might as well be alleles in the genome. Maybe it’s the chicken soup your aunt makes by the gallon during flu season, or the roast your mother overcooks every Easter. Maybe, if you’re lucky, your dad has taught you the secret to a perfect Old Fashioned, which he learned from his uncle, who learned it from his bookie. For my family, the recipe that defines us as a tribe, and whose origins best reflect our idiosyncrasies, is my grandfather’s babka.
What is the proper way to dispose of the American flag?
Found. December 31, 2011.
recipe from the alley
Boil med size Shrimp in Jacket cook 2 or 3 min. 1/2 st. of butter or 1 Butter. 2 dice carrots a little Flour. 1 onion dice. Saute in Butter.
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2 big potatoes diced
4 cups of warm milk
consome de pollo in 1 cup of milk
cook 15 – 20 min
Miranda July, It Chooses You
Each day this week, the Book Bench will feature an excerpt from “It Chooses You,” by Miranda July. The book, to be published on November 15th, recounts July’s adventures with a series of strangers she met through the classified ads in the PennySaver. The encounters helped her finish the script for her film “The Future” — and one of the strangers played a key role in it.
Lucy tweeted this miraculous find, and I’ve enjoyed very much what I’ve seen so far. Here are the links to each excerpt:
Michael. Large Black Leather Jacket. Hollywood.
Andrew. Bullfrog Tadpoles, $2.50 Each. Paramount.
Pam. Photo Albums, $10 Each. Lakewood.
Joe. Fifty Christmas-Card Fronts, $1. Los Angeles.
…
Sheila, I see a Freecycle version of this in your future.
from the comments
Our lead bird dog Tuffy would bring Miss Nell gifts of terrapins and turtles, try to drop them in her lap as she shooed him away. We always wondered why that? But now I’m remembering the people who walked by his pen after fishing the woods ponds and swamps. We’d stop them and examine their catches. They were big on turtle soup and often had a big one on a hook or rope. Did Tuffy “get” that? That the big terrapins he captured and ran with in his mouth back to the one person who resisted his love were considered great prizes by some? I mean, dogs, cats, owls, they just want to be friends.
photo out of context
Gary Lutz and Lindsay Hunter
From a review in praise of Gary Lutz’s Divorcer I found an excerpt from Lindsay Hunter’s short story collection Daddy’s:
Sibby had the Ziploc out, the one she filled with the spider’s eggs she’d find in the backyard. These are gifts from the Lord, she told me once. He sprinkled them around for me to find. Now she worked the Ziploc under her shoe, slowly mashing the eggs and baby spiders spilling out, like there was great pleasure in it. That what God told you to do with the eggs, I asked her. God told me plenty of times to smash your face under Daddy’s mallet, Sibby said, but sometimes I don’t exactly obey God. She finished her mashing, took off her one shoe and left it over the Ziploc. Let her sock get black with dirt. Why’d you do that, I asked her. Because, she said. She peeled off her sock, laid it out on the back step beside me. They were fixin to hatch, and without no mother it was dumb for me to let them be born. She disappeared into the house behind me.
(thanks, Derek)
Miss Lucy
is becoming Mrs. Lucy today. On Thursday, I helped her get her hen on, in a swanky hotel bar.
I’m immensely honored to be attending her and Ross’s wedding, and the succeeding reception-crawl. I will bring a real camera to that.
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from the spam
I really enjoy the smell of an Ice Cream shop. Much more than the wacky ice cream flavors they have these days.
bonus spam name: ‘Klaus Hergershimer’
Stellar Invites
I’ve got two one more Stellar invitations invitation. Let me know in comments.
Update: Jason says:
And I’ve got unlimited invites if other ‘flockers want to try it out. Email me at jason {at} kottke {dot} org.
headline of the day
Niagara Falls plunge: searchers find man’s body while looking for woman
I saw Deron in Oslo
At Akershus Castle.
OFFER: Mannequins (Galena)
Posted to Dubuque Freecycle group Wed Jul 27, 2011 6:22 am (PDT)
Several mannequins, one female, several male. All somewhat modern in style.
Update posted Wed Jul 27, 2011 7:35 am (PDT):
TAKEN: 2 Mannequins (1 1/2 still left)
The female and one of the male mannequins have been picked up. I have one full male and a male torso left. Thanks.
Hidden Treasure: Lost Photos From the Set of American Graffiti
In March, the Magnum photo agency stumbled onto a remarkable find: Nearly two dozen lost photos from the set of American Graffiti.
things I heard last week
And the steward said, I need to wake you up, you’re making my back hurt
Electric, can we get power to video village? Thank you.
Let me get you a list of things I do not like
Lime juice, Robituson, and Dayquil, all in equal parts
I’m so glad I’m 21, I can rent a box truck
Apparently I’m not a juice connoisseur
Give us a cigar, Castro
If you can see camera, it can see you
The business world has moved from handshakes to high-fives
Lettuce is hard
Broken pretty dishes you can always make into something pretty, you know?
So, we’re taking it from I don’t know why I lie so much
So we’re just going to follow the bird as it gets whispered down the line
I only like watermelon a little bit
This’ll take us out to the road where we were
Everything I do is an expression of my creativity
Protein Synthesis Dance
Thanks to Paul B., who says, “Don’t ask me about the biology. And remember, 1971 really occurred in the late ’60s. Downside: No music credits.”
The clothesline presents an opportunity for creative expression
My favorite memory of clothes on the line is sheets hung between two lines. The parabolic “u” it shaped. They were crisp on the bed and smelled like fresh air. Yellow jackets built nests inside the poles sometimes and came in with the laundry. The bag for the pins hung right on the line, didn’t it? And sometimes the yellow jackets would get in there, too. When I was little, I would hoist myself from one end of the line to the other, imagining a rushing river. Once I got to the end, bumped the metal pipe, and got stung about the neck and face. I fell in the river that time, running for the house. I vaguely remember running between clothes hanging like a maze. Mother had three lines, one higher in the middle. We would take naps there. Sometimes overnight. We started out ten. I woke up, eight. A couple of hours later it might be just sister and me. I grabbed her hand and we were headed for the back door. Later, they would say, “There was something in the woods.”
dream name
Austin Derwatt.
My 6 year old from his bunk bed
R: Dad do you remember before I was born?
Me: Yes.
R: Was everything the same?
Me: You weren’t here, so it was different. We were lonely but we didn’t know it.
R: Where was I?
Me: You weren’t made yet.
R: Sometimes I think I remember.
Me: Before you were born?
R: Yeah. It just was like space or something.
Me: What did it feel like?
R: Sad. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t even know what to think. Maybe I was lonely. I don’t know. It’s complicated to think about. I remember things from a long time ago.
[Quiet]
R: Did you ever travel to a high mountain before I was born?
Me: Yes.
R: I remember that. The stars were beautiful.
—
Later:
Adam Curtis, It Felt Like a Kiss
Sheila suggested I check out documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis’s found footage montage, It Felt Like a Kiss. A collaboration between Curtis and improvised theater company Punchdrunk, I’m not quite sure what the immersive experience would have been like, but I have rounded up the various pieces of it available on YouTube, and if you are interested — you’ll only need to watch a few minutes to know if it’s right for you — you can take a look.
Here is what the Guardian’s Charlie Brooker had to say:
One particular segment, set to River Deep, Mountain High, feels like being repeatedly stung on the mind by a hallucinogenic jellyfish while inhaling huge clouds of history through a pipe. The marriage of Phil Spector’s wall of sound and Curtis’s wall of images is so perfect, so strange and striking, it jangled around my head for hours afterward. And I only saw it in a tiny window on an Apple Mac, in a corner of Curtis’s tape-strewn “lair” at BBC Television Centre. God knows what it’ll be like on a big screen as part of a live-action, funhouse-style experience. It’ll probably kill people.
higgledy-piggledy, 1
His particleboard furniture looks like it was salvaged from a rural roadside free pile; a power strip is bolted arbitrarily to the wall; wires are strung higgledy-piggledy as if by an adolescent hobbyist; and this former heir to a multimillion Saudi fortune gets relegated to watching standard def video on a TV you couldn’t get $5 for on Craigslist. It seems only a matter of time before we’re told they found porn on his computer.
What I saw when I went to make coffee this morning
