28 December 2013

Calling All Bookworms

When's the last time you slipped a quarter in a public payphone?  Architectural designer John Locke can't remember either.  

So, he's attempting to repurpose the space into lending libraries.  He's built and installed bookshelves in some all but abandoned phone booths on the Upper West Side, filled them with a selection of reads and hopes the space will promote literacy.

19 December 2013

You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

As the Christmas season snows down around us, some are comforted by warm thoughts of hot cocoa by the fire while others melt with fear that someone might wanna rob them of all the goodies under the tree.  Paranoid preppers will need to protect the pretty wrapped parcels (and their family) and what better way than with a shiny new firearm!

Even if all your gifts are sucky and no one wants to take them, there's always the option of taking down one of Santa's reindeer mid-flight.  How fun!

Anyone that thinks this way would have loved living in decades past when the idea of finding a Gun under the tree was considered yuletide cheer.  Let the self-defense companies cash in.

This ad says it all.  A little Holiday Suicide might sound like a good idea after too much eggnog.  Happy Holidays! 

17 December 2013

Saying "Hello" in Chinese

Before you kick someone's ass with your super solid Shaolin kicks, you must uphold polite convention and greet your loser.

In Wushu Kung Fu you do that by covering your clenched right fist with your open palm left. It's called the "Bao Quan".

Today, your Master will tell you it means "People in the 5 lakes and 4 seas are all brothers".  And he's right.  But know that during the Qing Dynasty this greeting used to mean "Destroy Qing, Restore Ming" when many Grasshoppers fought agains the ruling family.

The Bao Quan also represents Attack -the Right Fist (or You) and Defense- The Palm (or Your opponent).  Aah.  Balance.  I knew it'd be in there somewhere.

You Know Dasher...

Living with the Sami

Reindeer herds and herders In Norway's far north area of Kautokeino

Captured by American Photographer Erika Larsen who became one of the family's beaga- a woman that cleans and cooks for the family- in order to entrench herself in the culture.  

12 December 2013

Hear Me Out

Most guys would cringe at getting a tie as a gift.  But they'd listen to this. Tell him it's made from recycled cassette tape ribbon.  The super sonic fabric was created by artist Alyce Santoro and the tie? It's hand sewn by designer Julio Cesar.   A sound investment at $120.  

04 December 2013

Storm is Over

The stillness is painful
Now there's nothing left to say, nothing left to do.
The winds took me farther than I wanted to go and now that
The Storm is over
I feel restless.
Never at ease with the serene.
The calm is worse than anything that came before.
It leaves me
Inside my own head.  It paralyzes my hands so the biggest part of me is gone.
The only part I know.

01 December 2013


The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open. 

-Chuck Palahniuk

27 November 2013

A Fat In Line

There’s only one allowed in at a time. She switches her enormous weight onto the other leg.  The man in front of her moves up half an inch, making room- not wanting to be close.  This can be passed off as polite but she knows the real reason.  The anger swells in her massive belly.  She grits her lips together, afraid of what spite may spew out if she opened it.  A young couple joins the queue.  She’s fat, they’re thinking.  And gross.  No one wants to stand too close.  Obesity is contagious.  The sweating begins.  This happens in crowds.  
The man in front stares silently, still, at the back of the head in front of him.  The couple is engrossed in their chatty dialogue.  But they are staring at her, inside they stare at her.  They’re thankful they don’t look like her.  The anger inside builds to rage.  Why do they all glare with their minds?  Why can’t they just accept her and let her be?  Why must she teach the world how to behave appropriately in social situations such as this?  The rage travels to her throat.  She wants to scream at all of them.  Close her eyes and let her tongue swing with fury. “Next.”  A voice from the room.  The crowd moves up a place.  She notices the inches in between her and the others in line.  More inches than should be. 

25 November 2013

The Drummer and the Sea

Ships slip into and out of the docks, mimicking the tide. The bump, bump, of Floatation buoys against the wooden pier keeps rhythm with the unhurried pace of life here.
Near the pier the kick of a drum is on tempo with the sounds of the sea.  It’s a lone drum, commanded expertly by a drummer who lost his sight years ago.  He’s comfortable with his blindness.  Sometimes, when people ask- usually small children full of innocent and annoying curiosity- he tells them the vibrations of his snare allow him to see.  They don’t but he likes to pretend- and it shuts up the children.  He can hear them staring after that.  But that’s less irritating than having their high-pitched voices destroy the leisurely symphony of the sea.  He will then beat out a prayer that they stop asking questions.  Thank god there are no children out today.
The buoys Bump against the wood pier-  his cue to slow the pace. The tide is ebbing.
There are only regulars at the dock who pay the Blind Drummer no mind.  This is how he likes it.   He can tell the regulars by their footsteps.  Each has a unique pace, a special plod that amplifies his composition.
A Chinese Man, new to this seaside town, sits at an easel near the Blind Drummer.  He unwraps a cloth and takes out calligraphers tools.  He begins creating art in his words. 
We are all players on stage, The Blind Drummer thinks as he allows the sounds to drive his opus- the Bumps, the footsteps and what’s that?  A Swoosh. Then a quick Swish.    The Calligrapher.  The sound’s ever so faint but yet fills the Drummer’s ears. He’s attracted instantly to the delicate sound.  Swoosh. Swish.  This beautiful tone is now the heart of his creation. His drumsticks follow in perfect rhythm as he falls into measure with this exotic sound.  He can’t place the sound.  It makes him angry that he can’t see.  More angry than he’s been for a long time.  What could it be?
The Calligrapher picks up the black Chinese letter he just drafted and allows the paper to waft out of his hands to the sea.
The Drummer stops. The Swish no longer fills the air around him. The song is over.

14 November 2013

12 November 2013

Digg! My Zimbio