The Mothra Effect, or: sensitive dependence on unexpected conditions

What happened was this: I was on the phone to cancel my credit card, having left my wallet on the plane, having called the airline and been told to fill out the form online, having insisted that I’d just gotten off the plane, that my wallet was definitely on the plane, that please could they connect me to the San Francisco desk as they’d probably found it by now, being on hold only to learn that no, my wallet had not yet been discovered, having gotten mad at myself for doing such a dumb thing, having only left my wallet on the plane in the first place because I’d gotten it out to pay for drinks, two whiskey gingers, having not been charged for the drinks, having said quietly to my boyfriend, woohoo, free drinks, and having not put my wallet back in my purse, having forgotten about it, having exited the plane.

So I was on the phone with Chase to cancel my credit card. The customer service rep expresses sympathy with me for having lost my card, offers to put a 48-hour hold on my card, I agree, and he asks me,

So, what’s it like, living in California…

[I laugh]

...with that movie San Andreas coming out?

What movie? I ask, I don’t know anything about it.

You know, it’s about the earthquake, the big disaster.

Ok, I say, I definitely know about the San Andreas fault, but I don’t know anything about the movie.

But what’s it like living so close to that?

I don’t really worry about it, I laugh again. I’ve lived in California almost my whole life, and I don’t really think about it.

I like your attitude about it, he responded approvingly.

You can’t really predict earthquakes, anyway, I add, so I don’t see the point in worrying.

But aren’t you concerned that there could be disaster at any moment?

I mean, everywhere is a little bit like that, right? Some places have hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis.

Yeah, but doesn’t it concern you that disaster could strike at any moment?

Well, really, the way they exaggerate these things for movies, too. I mean, Hollywood. You know, the last big earthquake we had here, that broke the bridge, only one person died, and that was because they were doing something weird with their car. The way they depict it in movies, it just doesn’t match the historical reality.

And wasn’t that with Mothman, too?

Ok, what? I laugh hugely. Mothman? What is Mothman?

You know, half-moth, half-man.

Wait, what does this have to do with earthquakes?

They saw it on the bridge, right? Before the earthquake.

I don’t know what you’re talking about man, I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality here.

Yeah, well, it is 1:30am here in Florida, so…

All right. I don’t know. No one in San Francisco talks about Mothman.

You can watch it on Animal Planet, look for Lost Tapes.

I definitely will.

And I did.

unrulyidiom productions

We have increased our video productions. You may view them via our tumblr, tiffanytellsyousomething.

It is best said of Tiffany that she has a lot to say.

nothing like a lack of color here

Sometimes things

resemble other things.

(I flatter myself Lydia Davis would approve.)

crocodile now seeking new management

(1) Babies are illogical;

(2) Nobody is despised who can manage a crocodile;

(3) Illogical persons are despised.

(Concl.) Babies cannot manage crocodiles.

Thank you, Lewis Carroll.

all the dolphins say

"He goes in the living room. He lies on the sofa. Not waving but drowning. No future. The future is now. Meaningless. Wave of the future. Everything is clichéd and melodramatic. He should eat. He used to think things like, This organic soymilk will make me healthy and that'll make my brain work better and that'll improve my writing. Also things like, The less I eat and the less money I spend on publicly owned companies the less pain and suffering will exist in the world. Now he thinks things like, It is impossible to be happy. Why would anyone think that? Things like, Godsford Park is the worst movie ever. Gosford? Godsford?

'Godsford,' Andrew says out loud. 'Gosford.' "

                   – Tao Lin, Eeeee Eee Eeee

A love letter, sort of

Before you end up married and buying a house in the Berkeley hills, before you become respected and a fixture of your community and successful at your profession, before you take your daughter to kindergarten, having played trucks and bulldozers with her for years because you’re so progressive and you’re such a great dad, and before you have a dinner party where you and your wife cook together and she’s not even boring or unattractive in fact I kind of like her, I quite like her, she’s funny in a subtle way and like you she has a good career, a graphic designer, I think, or maybe a psychiatrist, and sure you have your ups and downs sometimes it’s hard, even, but you love one another and you love your daughter and you’re talking about maybe having a second child and you’re fun, you’re fun people, you do strange things and you have costume parties still and in a lot of ways you’re grown up but in other ways you’re still quite raucous, in fact I think she must be a graphic designer or maybe a programmer, freelance, anyway, like you, because even though you’re not rich you still pick up and move from time to time, those three months you spent in Maine house-sitting and clam-digging and that long month in Uruguay where you stayed with friends and the internet connection was poor and you got a lot of writing done, and anyway you’ve decided to buy this house in Berkeley, reasonably close to all of the grandparents and a community garden and when you get up in the morning you usually feel pretty good, at least once you have some coffee, before all of that, before all of that, I’m saying, I’d like to take you out, I’d like to take you out now, when you have a lot of options and let’s face it probably a lot of offers but a lot of things have happened to you already and I think a lot will continue to and all I’m asking is please, before anything else happens, can we please go out. And after that, anything.

stay the execution of 2010

My friends,

It has recently come to our attention that the Year commonly known as 2010 is about to expire. This grieves us mightily since, as you are well aware if you have kept abreast of our efforts, we have been diligently lobbying Time to abolish its artificial and tyrannical construct The Calendar, a monstrous creation which, in addition to relying on arbitrary and senseless groups of numbers (7? 12? Outrageous!) for its foundational structure, unnecessarily and cruelly privileges certain categories (Days and Months) by allowing them to recur with great frequency while simultaneously discriminating in the most blatant and baseless fashion against others. I refer, of course, to Years, which are allowed to appear but once and then fade away, seemingly forever.

We have nothing but scorn for the defense offered by Calendarials: namely that, by virtue of the greater length of its existence, the Year is not suffering unfair treatment. That other categories, including such deeply unpopular representatives as the dreaded Monday, are granted immortal recurrence while Years are banished to the annals of memory is an untenable situation, and one which has no place in a free society.

Sisters and brothers! We ask that you join us in decrying the foul massacre of 2010, a noble Year that, while certainly in possession of many flaws could, we firmly believe, progress and improve – given Time! Lend your voice to the growing chorus and sing out against that heartless despot, The Calendar! Let us abolish this ridiculous notion that we must destroy the Past in order to create the Future, and let us instead float together in harmonious accord in a boundless Present!

As members of the Society for the Abolishment of Chronological Hierarchy, we work towards a more fair and equitable system of Time, with the ultimate goal of liberating humanity and the universe from the cruel shackles of clocks and segmented experience. One Day, we shall all be joyfully emancipated into the pure and unregulated realm of Timelessness.

As always, we welcome your letters and are grateful for your ongoing support.

Yours eternally,
MRM
President at-Large, Society for the Abolishment of Chronological Hierarchy (formerly the Anti-Calendarian Association)

attention to detail

is always appreciated. 
 (for comparison, see one of my other former zip codes in the city:)

finding unreason

There's something pleasing about this:

oh. my. god.

There are a lot of things I should be doing besides watching this. A lot. But how to say no to something entitled "Zombie vs. Shark"?

my question

is, does this man look delighted to you?

dancing with myself

is not something I've ever minded (and if you know me at all, you know that already). I also like to take myself out on a nice date from time to time. And so it was that Friday night found me at the de Young, listening to some opera, drinking wine. There was a circus performance, which involved a contortionist act by two tiny girl-child acrobats, one so young she stuck out her belly, beaming all the while, cheeks like tangerines. Once their act was over, she danced twitchily on the side of the stage, while two dancers performed a ballet duet to a soft-rock/adult contemporary cover of "Don't Stop Believin'." I kid you not. Sometimes things like this really make me want to make art, in the most combative way. Sometimes they make me want to never make art again. Then I bought myself a nice dinner.

banksy never did this

watch you like a tigerer/watch you like a fox

This recently appeared across the street from my house. My new favorite poem, maybe?

post-irony?

I almost fell off my bike on my way to work. Too much laughter for reliable pedaling!

Update: They seem incredibly sincere. Oh dear.

LoCoS

I hope that people never cease to amaze me. Currently, I feel the odds are pretty good.


"The postman brought me a happy letter from my home town this morning."

The Lover's Communication System. It's so dreamy. And, presumably, so silent.

los perdidos

Sometimes I get extra proud.

Los Perdidos from 826 Valencia on Vimeo.

how I long for the olden days

"In a 2009 paper in the American Journal of Psychology, Revonsuo and a co-writer, Katja Valli, theorized that 'modern humans still posses this ancient defense mechanism [dreaming as a kind of threat simulation],' though it probably no longer fulfills its original biological function, since the modern environment is so different from the one in which the system evolved. (Fewer mastodons, more traffic.)"

             – Margaret Talbot, "Nightmare Scenario," The New Yorker, Nov. 16, 2009

save the doggie

These were parked across the street from my house today and the day before.  I don't know why.  I don't mind, of course; I am perfectly willing to admit having shared in the bizarre, fierce affection for the doggie ever since moving to the city in 2002.  I used to walk from campus to the ocean, and I would pass it in mystified amusement.   

people dream up

the darndest things

the proposed 38 States, by C. Etzel Pearcy, mid 1970s; it follows natural borders and makes the states more equal in size

better than a cartouche

At the touring King Tut exhibition currently at the De Young, I fell in love with the Magical Brick of Thutmosis IV.  According to the display tag, "An image on a magical brick was placed in hall niches of burial chambers to ward off dangers from the north, south, east, or west.  This northern example warned:

'You who come to pull [my hair], I will not allow you to pull [my hair].' "

Sure, it had nothing on Egypt.  But the labeling was worlds and galaxies better than in the Cairo museum.