The Amish Project
A 24-year-old student went 90 days without using a cell phone, email or social media. Yahoo News interviewed him about the experience:
I definitely just lost complete contact with people that normally would have been part of my life. I mean it’s also an interesting metric for your life to see who some of your closest friends are, you know, and who’s willing to take the time.
I find it an interesting thought experiment to contrast this idea with Clusterflock, which is the clearest example in my life of the relationship-building power of the internet and social technology. The internet made it possible to seek out an entirely new tribe of people – people with which I have so much in common and so much to talk about, but that I hadn’t realized existed.
But then there are social networks like Facebook, which at their worst takes all of the people who are already part of your life – your co-workers, your school chums, your family – and hands them a level of intimacy about our lives that they haven’t really earned and don’t particularly deserve. I think that’s why it’s so interesting when these online relationships predicated on intimate knowledge but passive communication go bust when one party pulls out of Facebook – we’re just learning a hard lesson about the differences between that kind of intimate knowledge and true friendship, which for the longest time I thought were one and the same.
A couple relatives recently found me on Google Plus (I use it primarily for the sad remnants of what was once Google Reader). I hadn’t even acknowledged their existence before they were already commenting on every single piece of information attached to my name. This, I’m told, is keeping in touch.
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
Read more
Repost of a Post Past
Going down the rabbit-hole of Cece’s post. Great rememberies here, following “flockers.”
Stolen Instruments (Public Service Announcement)
This is of primarily local (Chicago) import and is not your typical clusterflock post, but what happened makes me so blistering mad that I want everyone I know to know about it and to keep their eyes and ears open.
STOLEN INSTRUMENTS alert! Violin and 2 guitars stolen from trunk of car outside The Whistler on Milwaukee on Sat night:
VIOLIN — Handmade, bears label: “Samuel Giovanni Casco in Örebro Anno 2010 For Ethan Adelsman”. The back has these measurements: 35.2 cm, 16.5 cm, 11.1 cm, 20.3 cm. The linseed oil-based varnish is a warm orange-brown color on a golden ground. The bow: Handmade by E. Herrmann of Brazilian pernambuco wood with silver mounted hardware. The bow bears inscription: E. HERRMANN *** Violin & bow were in a Bam Lotus case, black with grayish stripes on the top and black backpack-style straps.
The Mother Courage of Rock
She was skinny, quick-witted, disarmingly unprofessional, alternating between stand-up patter, bardic intonations, and the hypnotic emotional sway of a chanteuse, and she was sexy in an androgynous way I hadn’t encountered before. The elements cohered convincingly; she seemed both entirely new and somehow long-anticipated. For me at nineteen, the show was an epiphany.
Springtime 1976, I was living in the cinderblock building on the glorified median strip there where they split Highway 13, and one day I went over to this one girl’s apartment, she lived right by the guy who dealt me speed, and she said, “Hey, you know who you remind me of? You remind me of Patti Smith!”
Gave her a possum grin I’m still grinning.
There’s really one reason,
and one reason only, that I put this photo here on clusterflock.
Joel, I love you, man, but that photo out of context was beginning to make my tummy sad every time I stopped by.
Besides, I know you love Culver’s.
Fairies of Christmas Passed…Deconstructed
The Blue Fairies laid on the table from the tree en masse. These were created by a former greensman employee three or four years ago. I remember, as he made them, into a box-top in the backroom of the greensman offices, I entered the room he was working in. He said, as he shook the boxtop, “Look, they live! ” He giggled and grinned a grin somewhere between the grinch and the baby jesus. That vision will forever live in my heart.
headline of the day
Man steals Greyhound bus to meet friend for Christmas
Films sans subtitles
My friend Charlie is now living in Buenos Aires in a house full of folks from all over the world, and among them is Lauren Stephenson, whom some of you may know. The other night Charlie and Lauren went to the movies. Their command of Spanish was not up to the task of following the film as its makers intended, and Charlie reflected on the experience of watching a talkie without a solid grasp on the words the characters spoke.
There were a lot of solitary and broody fishermen in boats and seaside bars. And one mouthy whore. There was a girl thrown into the mix, but her character stared vacantly into the distance so often that I wondered what she was looking at. Was she psychic? Did she make that guy have a heart attack just by squinting through the window? What was she looking for in the distance anyway? Did she like to find beavers in clouds? Again, not sure.
Dear Santa
Thank you for the sweet hot air balloon ornament. Colors are perfect! And for the Chicago Christkindlmarket drinking boot, I’ll try it out a little later. This was the best Christmas ever!
Charles Coleman, the celluloid adventurist
Coleman, 47, is film programmer for Facets Multimedia.
One thing being lost is the art of conversation, of people seeing a movie and then actually having a good talk afterwards. — As told to J.R. Jones.
Man, does this put me in mind of my friend Charlie’s thoughts re: the “hidden cinema” he frequents in Buenos Aires.
X-mas Eve Par-tay
I’m relaxed. I honestly am. I bought a set of Horrified B-Movie Victims for the X-tended family X-mas gift X-change. The Gift Grab amongst cousins and their partners et al.
As for my near and dear, this year I’m empty-handed. And I’m cool with saying, “Hey, when I see something I know you’ll love, it’s yours.” And I imagine my near and dear will be cool with that.
What I am not doing is scouring the Tri-State Region over the next three hours for timely gifts for my near and dear. Not for the sake of saving face in Chicago tomorrow night. Screw it. My near and dear know I love them, I hope, and I hope they love me.
“It’s been harder than usual this year,” I’m thinking to say. “How’s it been for you?”
And I’m cool with that.
Secret Santa
People are starting to receive their secret Santa gifts! Hooray!
Figured I’d start this thread if people want to post what they got (or share shopping/shipping stories).
As far as anonymity goes I’m fine with gifters outing themselves or giftees outing who their gifters are. Personally I went to a bit of effort to stay anonymous but it probably won’t be difficult to deduce.
Hope everyone gets their gifts before Christmas!
from the archives/from the comments
April 27, 2007: Manah Manah.
(Move along. Nothing to see.)
Secret Santa!
Second call in case people missed the first post over the holiday weekend.
If you’re interested in participating in some Clusterflock Secret Santa, email me at christopherflocken at gmail dot com by tomorrow with your snail mail address so I can pass it along to your Santa (or I’ll put them all in a shared Google Doc, whichever winds up being more practical).
You should get an email Wednesday night/Thursday morning with who your assigned giftee is. Try to get your gift in the mail by December 14th so it gets to them before any holiday traveling.
Merry Flockmas!
from the comments
I’m in my sweats, under the covers, in a frigidly cold loft located above the karaoke action of my friends’ wedding reception. Right now a muffled voice is singing that love song from the movie, Aladin. We’re all in the guest house on a farm in McDade, Texas. Let me save you the trouble and clarify that this place is about 40 miles outside of Austin. I wish I were wearing some socks, but they’re somewhere in my suitcase and it’s too dark to tell where.
Today was kind of amazing. Rain was forecasted for the outdoor wedding, but as the hours counted down a storm blew in early and fast. We set everything up in the morning, tables, chairs, cloths, settings, flowers, other decorations, and sound equipment. By the time of the ceremony, nearly an hour late due to the brides’ clear need for a last-minute nap, winds were ripping across the farm at speeds greater than 30 miles an hour. Temperatures had dropped below 60 degrees.
You plan for months, you wake up worrying about the location of those dessert spoons you intended to have on hand for the cake course, and then the entire wedding happens (happily!) in the small room intended just for the catering set-up.
What also amazes me is how I respected my socializing limit and stopped there. I wished my friends love and happiness and all the fun they could have in one night, and then I came up here to rest. Last night it nearly broke me being trapped out at a bar in downtown Austin with no hope of leaving the bachelorette party until everyone staying at the farm was ready to take the van back, including the brides.
I am not the unyielding, overtired extrovert I used to be. Now, where are my socks?
Secret Santa?
Is there any interest in doing a Clusterflock Secret Santa gift exchange?
There are programs online that randomize the list so no one person will know all the assignments.
Suggestion if people are interested:
• Sign up by Wednesday November 30th.
• Buy your assigned person something worth $10-$15.
• Get it in the mail for the recipient by Wednesday December 14th.
tweet of the day
from the comments
Casey, the stub at the end of my full-windsors is a little bigger than tiny. I share your neck size.
Thanks Rick. I often have trouble getting the stub into the keeper. Especially after a few drinks.
Higgins-Madewell
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.
The Trip, streaming on Netflix
Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon’s dueling Michael Caine impersonation movie, The Trip, is now streaming on Netflix.
Mostly improvised and highlighting the duo’s penchant for dueling impressions of famous actors, the film follows them as they test their friendship while sampling the best restaurants in Northern England.
To see if that interests you, you can check out this clip, previously, on clusterflock.
(via @spavis)
Sheila’s Oak Park Walking Tour
Called to mind by the Where we are today thread.
Friend #1: I can’t believe these are all single-family houses.
Friend #2 (sotto voce): Ah, the voice of the eternal proletariat. “Why, five families could live in that house!”
scenes for a film from Sheila’s email
1.
After our first (failed) graffiti attempt on Wednesday, Charlie and I went to a little place called Council Hill Station for coffee. A storm was in full force, and lightning hit something very near by. The owner of the place wondered if he should go over to his house and “shut off the Internet.”
2.
Charlie noted that he seemed easily distracted, even by his own thoughts.
The arrival of a big truck passing through “town” caused him to bolt out the door in the middle of a conversation about Jackson Hole.
3.
Before the scene in which Charlie is standing at the counter with money out and the owner is laboriously pointing out locations of nearby towns on a map and briefly fretting that the town of Leadmine has been omitted (“that’s not good”) when he gets a phone call and tells the caller that his partner/wife is not around, then wanders off to the kitchen (or somewhere). We can hear the occasional sound of his side of the conversation. And then the sound of water running.
Our perception of time grew very strange indeed.
4.
Also, the recorded fiddle music that sounded as though it would repeat for all eternity.
And the bad cell phone connections. Charlie and I both got calls, and we were shouting and repeating till the connections dropped.
Charlie to his father: “You can eat fruit . . . ? He said you can eat fruit? You . . . can . . . eat fruit?”
We Won Backyard Garden of the Year
Kristopher designed this four years ago. Subcontractors did the structures and masonry, we did the garden. This year, the garden grew into the space it was meant to be.
