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the various and sundry creations of sylvus tarn

magic window


Sorry about the lack of posting last week—I think I had homework, or taxes or something tedious of that nature. (I still have both of those things to do, but Valentine's Day won't wait, and I'm so proud of myself for posting this stuff before the date, instead of my usual modus operandi of after.)

So here's a (slightly updated) collection of linkies from 2013, to go with our 2013 heart challenge!



It's taken years, but I am finally on top of things enough to post about hearts before valentine's day! So very very proud of myself. (It doesn't take much, you'll notice.) So for today we're going all the way back to 2008, for an index post collecting some oldies but goodies—while all the beads have been featured before, they're kinda buried. But-but-but— the wizard DID put ‘and’ functionality into the index function, which means I can make index pages that, frex, specify ‘2008&hearts’ (instead of 2008hearts, which as you could imagine could lead to many many search terms and a lot of clunkiness.) Oh, frabjous...



This young violin player imitates the sound of the ubiquitous car alarm —oh my goodness this madr me laugh—1) cuz that exact sound tortured me all the time back when I lived in Detroit and 2) cuz it's now a memory, instead of a daily aggravation. (I was at f2tE's place the other day, and someone cranked up their base heavy car audio. I sighed. F2tE said ze didn't mind, it reminded hir of hir childhood.)

Sometimes, it's all about different spokes for different folks, as today's page, final in a series of 5 mini-beadcurtain strands, illustrates.


I had a frustrating day, fighting with my own crappy (mis)understanding of quick-disconnects (there are three kinds, regulator to hose, hose to hose, and hose to torch, and either I or the welding shop special ordered three sets of the wrong kind. Bleh.) bad concentrators, overly short torch hoses (whose idea was it to make that alpha's hoses a frickin’ foot long!?! Even two feet, I could've worked with...) Arrrrrrghhhhhh....

So this adorable—and nicely drawn—fanfic ‘7.5’ star wars comic was a welcome tonic. Via the Mary Sue, of course.

If that doesn't float your boat, well, here's another green bead-curtain strand. Enjoy.



So the local library has Tribal: College Football and the Secret Heart of America by “Diane Roberts...a self-described feminist with a PhD from Oxford” according the inside flap; but she's also a rabid football fan. I've been trying to figure out for years what the allure of this game is, and here's someone perfectly qualified to translate for me.

I'm only about 50 pages in, but I got the message halfway through the introduction, a little over 5 pages in:

I can't quit college football. It's like a bad boyfriend: you hate that he's so right-wing, his table manners embarrass you, he's barely read a book, and you don't want your mother to meet him, but damn, he's so fine and makes you feel so good (when he isn't making you feel so bad), you just can't help yourself.



Rebecca Solnit's River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West the third work of hers I've read (the essay “Men Explain Things to Me”, and A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster being the first two) and for the shear sheer (though sometimes brutal, cutting) beauty of the prose, is easily my favorite.

But it's also by far the most difficult because though it's a wide-ranging narrative that documents, among other things, an intense love of place by the Modoc tribe, the narrative circles around Edward Muggeridge/Eadwaerd Muybridge, who first-degree-murdered his wife's lover (and the necessarily all-male jury let him off); his wife's life spirals precipitously downwards thereafter: she dies, destitute, by the age of 24. At the same time, he was a brilliant artist and restless photographer who pushed the medium from its seconds (or even minutes) long exposures to hundredths or even thousandths of a second.


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