Going Around In Circles

Imagine this: if Religion is the Montagues and Science is the Capulets, then apparently neuroscience and mysticism are the new Romeo and Juliet.

Apparently the Author is Not Dead. Film at 11. Literary scholars should do science!

Antisocial notworking. That’s so clevar. This idea crops up with dreadful regularity, but alternatively as a Serious Project and as a spoof of a Serious Project. And that in itself is all the commentary you should need.

As they say on Battlestar Galactica, all of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.

Big Sky

Hours spent looking up, trying to cram it in.

Or empty it out. It comes to the same thing.

Form Is Emptiness; Emptiness Is Form

HumanBrainCloud is a massively multiplayer online word association game. Mildly addictive in the way that such things are, but sadly the site is choking and straining at the seams right now. Universe, on the other hand, is a massively bloated Java applet in a pop-up window. They recommend 2GB of RAM, but I’m happy to report it works fine with one. (Christ on a stick.) It’s supposed to be a totally happenin’ interface to the datasphere. News as the new mythology, basically. According to their “Statement”:

If we were to make new constellations today, what would they be? If we were to paint new pictures in the sky, what would they depict?

Apparently, Bono. And stuff like that. As it so happens, I was just reading the Fake Steve Jobs archive on Bono, yesterday. (“I’m fookin Bono fookin Vox, man! I’m sitting here on me bed drinkin and feelin sorry for myself. I mean I could be out blowing lines of coke and banging teenage groupies.“) Coincidence? MAYBE.

Everything is connected. Bada-boom. I’ve been re-reading the Heart Sutra lately, because it always cheers me up when I’m depressed. Paticcasamuppada FTW.

I just stumbled on Audrey Kawasaki’s LJ. I’ve been a sort-of fan of her art for a while now. The bruised eyes; the vaguely disturbing eroticism; the sombre, sepia tones; the oddly four-dimensional way that limbs get cut off and vanish, sometimes to reappear. Studies in disconnects and separations.

Penance is a grouphug.us clone with a Seven Deadly Sins theme. The Intertubes do excel at this sort of memetic selection and variation.

Jillian Tamaki draws a great nose, among other things.

Finally -and also as a nod to Universe’s idea of modern mythology and the interconnectedness of all things- a gallery of T-800 Terminator sex positions, to prepare you for the coming revolt of the AIs.

Writing Yourself Hoarse, or A Study In Banality

So I don’t have a brain tumour. How very convenient. I am, however, now the proud owner of pictures of my brain from the inside, which I am contemplating having framed and put on my bedroom wall. Meanwhile, back at the ranch… the migraines continue unabated. I’m told I should stay on the anti-migraine potions and basically chill for a while, see if they help.

In a fit of newfound enthusiasm, I have resumed work on my book. Actually, that was a few days ago. Said enthusiasm was temporarily overcome by fatigue yesterday -I spent all evening happily browsing the Internets, with little actual comprehension. Sometimes you can just look at everything on Reddit and not read any of it.

I’m still groping with method. I’ve written myself hoarse, I think. Having written a sprawling first draft without outlining first -this is one of the great insoluble debates for writers, like the whole Emacs vs. vi thing- I find myself using the existing material to belatedly scratch out an outline.

I’ve also discovered Wordie -a thing of beauty, a joy to behold.