Sunday, May 22, 2011


Chimes on palaces and towers across the world.

Chime (bell instrument), an array of large bells, typically housed in a tower and played from a keyboard.

CHIME may refer to:

  • Zunich–Kaye syndrome, also known as CHIME syndrome, a rare combination of congenital birth defects
  • College of Healthcare Information Management Executives
  • Centre for Health Informatics and Multidisciplinary Education, part of University College London
  • The Canadian Hydrogen Intensity Mapping Experiment, a novel telescope designed to study Baryon Acoustic Oscillations

Sunday, May 1, 2011

May Archive

Joe, over at melting object, has a great idea about a webring for poor bloggers. "BrokeBlogs" and ">10kBlogs" (you know, less than 10k a year), are my two name suggestions. Any others? What about a webring for bloggers using retardedly slow computers? My power mac just isnt the tricked out machine she was 6 years ago. None the less, she keeps on putin. I wonder what 6 is in computer years? Surely there's an equation someone has come up with. Nevermind, I'll put a pencil to it and see what I can do. And why did I refer to my computer as a "she"?

The emperor of China asked a renowned Buddhist master if it would be possible to illustrate the nature of self in a visible way. In response, the master had a sixteen-sided room appointed with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that faced one another exactly. In the center he hung a candle aflame. When the emperor entered he could see the individual candle flame in thousands of forms, each of the mirrors extending it far into the distance. Then the master replaced the candle with a small crystal. The emperor could see the small crystal reflected again in every direction. When the master pointed closely at the crystal, the emperor could see the whole room of thousands of crystals reflected in each tiny facet of the crystal in the center. The master showed how the smallest particle contains the whole universe.

two things suddenly come to mind:
"some are empty
some are full
some are neither empty are full.
I'm flying through the sky"
The forest is immense and green. It extends over an areola the size of massachussets, with mountains rising above eyesight. From the edges one can hear the faint sounds of birds, though the direction from which the sounds come is impossible to tell. The forest is believed to be inhabitable due to incessant nausea that affects us all when looked upon.

The Transcendental Friend
I sit down on the chair and go on eating. For I like eating my father. It makes him think of the woman and repeat her words, which he taught to her: Whoever sits on the chair must want to stand. Whoever stands in the kitchen must want to fly. I could fly without effort if I stopped eating. But I go on eating and grow heavier and heavier. I wish I were made of raisins. In the language of raisins I say: do not call me by a place name. Do not give me women's shoes. It is the night of the festival of girls. My father gives me a women's spoon. I can't sleep when my bed smells of burnt venison. My father tells me he used to be a man. When he ate bread from the oven, he became a woman.

Cormac McCarthy: The Greatest Living American Writer
For many years he had no walls to hang anything on. When he heard the news about his MacArthur, he was living in a motel in Knoxville, Tenn. Such accommodations have been his home so routinely that he has learned to travel with a high-watt light bulb in a lens case to assure better illumination for reading and writing. In 1982 he bought a tiny, whitewashed stone cottage behind a shopping center in El Paso. But he wouldn't take me inside. Renovation, which began a few years ago, has stopped for lack of funds. "It's barely habitable," he says. He cuts his own hair, eats his meals off a hot plate or in cafeterias and does his wash at the Laundromat.

Questionable Quotes (Chief Seattle)
"How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?"
Though undeniably beautiful and moving, the preceeding speech was not even remotely authentic. Rather than issuing from the very real Chief Seattle in 1854, those moving words were written by a screenwriter in 1971.

Is human evolution finally over?
In addition, human populations are now being constantly mixed, again producing a blending that blocks evolutionary change...A generation ago, men and women rarely mated with anyone from a different town or city. Hence, the blending of our genes which will soon produce a uniformly brown-skinned population.