letter to Earth

Dear planet Earth,
Your inhabitants are ferocious, especially the civilized ones who should know better than to do some of the bad things they do. Why are you like this? Do you have some undiscovered race living in the deepest darkest parts of the oceans who have need only of the heat of your mantle for survival and who abide there until things on the surface become a bit more hospitable? Are you training them down there in your womb, a secret sect, to cleanse us sun-worshippers of our disrespectful ways? Sometimes I hope so. But we're not all bad out here on the periphery. One of the civilized recently figured out where some of the missing matter of the universe can be found. She didn't even leave your surface to do it, either. We make up some wild stories. What are the stories like of the mantle-people? Do they have ex-ray vision? The reindeer people on the North Crust are able to see in U.V.. Your wonders are many Earth. Long may you spin.
5m5 (a fan)

hair-bird pigeon-camera

Some time has passed since the last posting but you probably wouldn't know it. The amount of time between inspirational flashes or even doggedly determined forays into the realm of creative writing has been reduced to a slight downward twitching of your finger. A funny quote made its way into the old factory recently, but I can't remember the quoted person. Here it is anyway, non verbatim -which is to say, in paraphrase.
The art of writing is like the ability to wear a toupee: some people can make it work, some cannot. Writing poetry is like wearing a toupee in a hurricane.
It may be time to revel in having a full head of hair. I believe it is time to grow it out a bit, before it starts to thin and fall out. The wee boy has such a tuft of curls, it is inspiring. And I have a strange urge to make members of the family (or fim-fam, if you like) into a team with certain shared, matching visual elements.
There you have it. News from space!

thinking

You can't take it back, and you can't take it with you. All things become incorporeal in the eyes of death. But the value of each living moment also reveals itself, and gives you what you need to continue on.

n.a.s.a. an unfit earth ambassador

Have a look at how the North American Space Agency deals with cultural diversity.


http://www.redorbit.com/news/space/49124/gaelic_banned_by_nasa__space_pupils_censored/

it's an anniversary

Oh, hello there! What's that? It's only been fifty years? Well, think about it: it's only half a century and.... No, I agree, it's no less amazing a feat of human ingenuity. Completely. Great, yes, I'll post it on the log. Okay. YOU TOO! Bye.

http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/Technology/Space-50-Years-On-From-Gagarins-First-Space-Flight-Space-Exploration-Is-Far-From-Over/Article/201104215970851?lpos=Technology_First_Home_Page_Feature_Teaser_Region_0&lid=ARTICLE_15970851_Space%3A_50_Years_On_From_Gagarins_First_Space_Flight%2C_Space_Exploration_Is_Far_From_Over

David Bowie part two

Recently, a few of my hard-earned dollars went toward the purchase of some musical recordings. Among these is a David Bowie album. No, no old Major Tom; alas, no Spiders from Mars. I found something of his from the  Nineteen-Nineties, that decade of filth and identity crisis. "Earthling" is the title. It made its appearance when the underground rave scene was taking off, I think (a confused time in my life as well). A strange combination, Bowie and drum samples. It's bizarre. Over-produced, with that big-stadium-rock-sound featured on most over-hyped nineties commercial junk. The album even includes a "duet" remix version of one of the songs with Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails. Just plain weird and gimmicky. I like how the whole concept remains tied to "The Man Who Fell to Earth", and though it's entitled "Earthling" it sounds like the same alien from the aforementioned Bowie-movie stuck around our planet another two or three decades to have a half-life crisis and act upon the desire to stay "hip" and "with it". Ironic, really: Bowie playing around, trying to push boundaries while relying on his usual "oddity"- and by this I suppose I mean his larger persona through the decades- to sell the whole thing. But then, it's all somehow artistically truthful in a way as well, in spite of how contrived. Now I'm looking forward to finding a copy of "Heathen" and having a listen. I remember when these albums came out and thinking "hey, I'd like to listen to that, it's odd enough for me". Perhaps Bowie's strength has been his appeal to the outsider at large, and within. But I'm glad I didn't give into the commercial pull back then. I think I would have regretted it and felt ripped-off. Now I can consume the stuff second-hand, retrospectively, and there's that much more to enjoy.

david bowie

Today I had a chat in real life with one of the people who reads the postings in this log. Let's call her "Edna" to preserve her anonymity.  We usually use "Shane" for such purposes, but what would a world filled with inhabitants named only Shane be like? I don't think I'm ready to visit that planet yet. So let us allow the solar-winds of change to blow our mentally navigated (and completely fabricated) space-vessel to new places. Edna mentioned that there have been few new "the martian hop" postings as of late. She also sent me something that I will share with you now, because it is not only relevant, but it also made me chuckle aloud: