Decision Desk HQ calls the NYC mayoral race for Zohran Mamdani. (Eric Adams: 0.3% of the vote. Worst mayor ever.)
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“Stone Simulator is a meditative idle game where you live as a rock enduring endless seasons and absurd events. Survive storms, unlock quirky achievements, and observe a serene, ever-changing world…” Includes a multi-player mode.
Pebbling: sending little links and memes to the people that you love. Derived from the behavior of gentoo penguins, who “pick up pebbles in their beak and carry them to their partners or potential partners as a gift”.
Papers
Papers is a 3-minute animated short film made by Yoshinao Satoh from what must be thousands of newspaper scans. The animation set to Different Trains by Steve Reich & Kronos Quartet. I love this style of collage animation.
Conde Nast is watering down Teen Vogue by folding it into the Vogue website. “Management plans to lay off six of our members, most of whom are BIPOC women or trans…” Teen Vogue’s political reporting has been excellent: direct & courageous.
“Originally released in 1982, the Vectrex was a truly unique console, featuring its own built-in vector display and colorful screen overlays. Forty-three years after its creation, this iconic console is reborn in a brand-new miniature edition.”
Thanks to Great Wave Today, I was able to see an original woodblock print of Hokusai’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa at the Creative Museum here in Tokyo. My first time seeing an original IRL! And an amazing exhibition as well.
Every Tree Can Be a Buddha
I began at the end. The Chōishi-michi pilgrimage route is an amazing 12-mile trail that winds its way up through the forest from the Jison-in temple in the town of Kudoyama in the valley to the Danjo Garan temple in the town of Kōyasan in the mountains. The origins of the trail date back to the founding of Kōyasan as a center for the esoteric Shingon school of Buddhism by Kūkai (aka Kōbō Daishi) in 819 CE. Legend has it that Kūkai used the trail to visit his mother; ever since, for some 1200 years, Buddhist faithful have been using the Chōishi-michi to worship in sacred Kōyasan. I was going to follow in their footsteps, for my own ends.
To climb up a mountain like a proper pilgrim, you need to start at the base. Seeing as my lodgings were already in Kōyasan, my journey began by a) catching the bus down a winding forest road; b) where I boarded a cable car for the ludicrously steep journey down to Gokurakubashi; c) where I got on an extremely local train; and d) finally disembarked at the Kudoyama train station and walked to the starting point. One hour and 30 minutes after I’d left my guesthouse, I stepped through the gate of the Jison-in temple. Now all I had to do was climb the entire 4100 feet of elevation back to where I’d started.
When establishing the Chōishi-michi some 1200 years ago, Kūkai marked the route with wooden guideposts, one every 109 meters. You don’t want your pilgrims getting lost — how are you going to find eternal salvation if you can’t even make it to the temple? The markers were replaced with more sturdy stone gorintō in the late 13th century. 180 of these stone markers are situated along the route from to Jison-in to Danjo Garan, along with another 36 markers from Danjo Garan to the Mausoleum of Kōbō Daishi in the Okunoin Cemetery. In the spirit of wayfinding, perhaps a map of my there-and-back-again route would be useful:
———
I was thankful for the frequent stone markers as I’d gotten a little lost on my hike the previous day. I was traveling on — or I was supposed to be traveling on — the Nyonin-michi pilgrimage route (Women’s pilgrimage route) and doing pretty well when I took a wrong turn right near the end.
This particular trail, though popular, wasn’t on All Trails and markers were sparse, so I was doing a lot of pinching & zooming of Google Maps and a PDF I downloaded from the internet. The trail curved right and I stayed straight, wondering why this bit of the trail was a little less blazed than the rest of it had been, and I popped out into the backyard of a temple. Oh no, I thought, I’m not supposed to be back here; only monks are supposed to be back here. I’m offending so many ancestors right now.
More pinching and zooming — ok, there’s a road off to the northwest. I set off and walked by what looked like some recent graves? The ancestors: so mad right now! What a disgrace of a pilgrim I am. I found myself crouching as I walked almost on tiptoe, trying to evade detection — even though the Buddha surely knew where I was and what I’d done. The road was just where the map said it would be; I slipped through a gap in the fence and followed it downhill for a quarter mile, not entirely sure I wasn’t still in a restricted area.
I came up on the other side of the temple and realized I’d stumbled into the backyard of Kōbō Daishi’s Mausoleum, where Shingon founder Kūkai entered into eternal meditation in 835 CE,1 aka one of the absolute holiest places in all of Japan, aka I am in deep, deep shit with the ancestors. Abandoning my plans for lunch, I entered Okunoin Cemetery through a proper entrance and made my way to the mausoleum. Wishing to make amends, I bowed at every bridge and threshold where everyone else was bowing and threw some coins into the saisen box.2 Many of the people around me were quite emotional about being there. The whole atmosphere just felt good, peaceful, numinous.
———
Ok, back to the Chōishi-michi, the big 12-miler. The first few miles felt almost straight up and then the trail leveled off for a while. The weather was cool but humid, so I hiked in shorts sleeves, sweating. It rained intermittently. Fog crept up the mountainside. I hiked though persimmon orchards; they’re in season right now. Small stands sold oranges & persimmons on the honor system. The path was well marked, not only with the stone gorintō but with well-placed signs in Japanese and English pointing the way to Kōyasan.
Walking the narrow path between the forest’s tall evergreen trees felt like entering a European cathedral with a towering vaulted ceiling. A bamboo forest earlier on the hike had a similar feeling; spaces such as these make you look up and feel whatever power or force or presence you believe in. You feel small and big all at once. The forest: unbelievably beautiful.
I heard voices through the trees and then the crack of something — was that a golf ball? Am I hiking through a golf course? The trail came to a clearing and lo, the tee for the 13th hole. The path also passed by vending machines,3 crossed roads, and zagged through tiny towns. The modern world, built up around this ancient trail.
I stopped for lunch around the halfway point: a sandwich, apple & custard pastry, and a small can of consommé flavored Pringles procured the night before at FamilyMart. FamilyMart is one of the big three convenience stores (konbini) in Japan — the other two are Lawson and 7-Eleven. Before you come to Japan for the first time, everyone tells you how amazing the konbini are: “You’re not going to believe this, but…” And then you get here and damn, they were right. The consommé Pringles were delicious.
After lunch: one foot in front of the other. Pilgrim mode locked in. Maybe I should become a monk, I think. I’m pretty good at being a pilgrim, the hiking part of it, I mean. I’m fine being alone with my thoughts. The clothes look comfy. I could be a monk with the internet at the center of my practice. Hours spent doomscrolling is kind of like meditation, right? It’s certainly a flow state of sorts, like the blood gushing from the elevators in The Shining. I’m into aesthetics. And I— oh, it’s ascetic? Ah. Maybe I’ll just stick to my secular life then.
Another stone marker. Another 109 meters. Keep going. I pass one every 90-100 seconds or so. Early on, the markers flew by; I didn’t even notice some of them. Now I’m searching them out ahead, peering up the slope I know (via All Trails) steepens sharply right at the end. Is this is the last one? No. But keep going. It’s damp, the rocks are wet. An inch of moss covers everything save for the well-worn pilgrimage path. It feels like a rain forest. Another stone marker. Another 109 meters. Keep. Going.
I sense the top of the hill — something about the light changes. I see a guardrail ahead. Emerging on the side of the road, I cross it and make for the Daimon gate, the traditional entrance into town. On the threshold, I bow deeply. Stepping over, I pump my fist in the air — I’ve made it back to Kōyasan.
———
A weary pilgrim deserves a hot bath. My guesthouse is a further few hundred feet. The woman who runs it is very nice and a little kooky; I like her. After the sacred backyard debacle the other day, I told her about all the ancestors I’d offended. She chuckled and told me, the ancestors, they don’t mind so much. She cooked me breakfast (delicious, nutritious) every morning — you don’t look like a tofu person, she said, eyeing me. Correct.
On my last morning, I asked her about a bunch of boxes stacked on a table. I have an interest in incense, she said. Apparently it’s quite involved and the most skilled practitioners are equal in expertise to those who do the chadō tea ceremony. She opened one of the boxes and showed me a very expensive twig of charcoal, which is so special that they sell it by the stick. When the charcoal burns, it does so purely, without giving off any gases or sparking or spitting. Afraid she’s trapped me into politely listening to her going on about her hobby, she checks in: are you actually interested in this? My turn to chuckle; personally & professionally, I’m interested in all sorts of things, even fancy charcoal.
The guesthouse has a kick-ass bathtub, deep and quick-to-fill. My host keeps a selection of bath salts and I select a yuzu one. Tired but happy and fulfilled, I soak a long while, easing the pain in my aching feet & back, the yuzu scent filling my pores.
———
After bathing, I set out to finish my journey. I’d previously walked the length of town to the Okunoin Cemetery and back a couple of times, but I wanted to do the whole thing in one day: from Jison-in temple to Kōbō Daishi’s Mausoleum at the far end of the cemetery, a proper pilgrimage. Well, not quite proper…because I was tired from my hike, I caught the bus instead of walking. The quest is the quest, whatever it takes.
Okunoin Cemetery is one of the most breathtaking and magical places I’ve ever been. Imagine a redwood forest like Muir Woods with Buddhist temples and a 1200-year-old cemetery with tens of thousands of faithful buried in it. The soaring trees create that cathedral effect and even an atheist like me can’t help but feel holy in the presence of so many souls, including Kūkai/Kōbō Daishi himself.
I hopped off the bus and started into the cemetery. Night had fallen and it was quite dark; should I have brought my headlamp? Ah, no need…the way is lit by hundreds of lanterns lining the path at about shoulder height. There are also some brighter, taller lights, a concession to safety I suspect. They’re the wrong temperature though, a rare misstep in a country with an unrivaled collective attention to detail. Whereas the lanterns glow with a pleasant amber light, these safety lights are a cold, garish blue, a color as harsh to the eye as the word “garish” (or “harsh” for that matter).
Aside from a few other people, I’m the only one here at this hour. Why are my shoes. So! LOUD!!? Each footfall echoes about the whole place and the crunch of the sand on the wet pavement under my soles is deafening. Once again, I am disturbing the ancestors. I try to walk quieter but somehow that’s even louder? How is anyone supposed to be eternally meditating with all this racket going on? Definitely not monk material, neither me nor my cacophonous shoes.
What’s that noise?! Some kind of animal? Ok, I can still hear the faint sound of traffic on the nearby road and anywhere with automobile noise isn’t scary — dangerous perhaps, but not scary. I hear another noise, one that I can only describe as “probably bird but what if monkey?” Or maybe Ghibli monster? I gotta say, in case you didn’t know, Hayao Miyazaki sure nailed Japan. Hit it out of the park. Everywhere I go, I am reminded of his work: small food stalls, beautiful parks, tiny trucks, cute little train stations, forest paths — the just-so touches of Japan reflected and amplified by the meticulous and rich detail of Studio Ghibli’s work.
The cemetery oozes Ghibli energy; it is not difficult to imagine thousands of Miyazaki’s weird little guys hanging from every tree and lurking behind every gravestone. Buoyed by their benevolent presence, I make a full loop of the cemetery in the dark, all the way to Kōbō Daishi’s Mausoleum and back to the entrance again.
And then, not wanting to wait 25 minutes for the bus, I walked all the way back to my guesthouse again, stopping at a sushi place for dinner. When I poked my head through the door, there was one other customer, an old guy smoking a cigarette who gestured for me to join him at the communal table. A menu was produced; I ordered so much sushi. Baseball was on the TV in the corner — game 1 of the Japanese equivalent of the World Series. The old couple running the place brought me sake, six massive fatty tuna rolls, six even larger salmon nigiri, and a much larger bowl of miso soup than I was expecting. As the three of them chatted, we all watched the baseball and I finished everything they brought me. I’d walked a total of 17.5 miles and needed to replenish.
I rolled out of there around the 4th inning of the game, arigato gozaimasus all around, and limped the rest of the way back to the guesthouse with a full belly, full heart, and teeming mind — back to where I began, at the end, completely satisfied by one of the best, most fulfilling days I’ve had in a long time.
- Adherents believe Kūkai didn’t die but merely entered into a deep meditative trance to await the future Buddha.↩
- A busy Buddhist temple sounds not unlike the slot floor of a Vegas casino, except it’s the patrons, and not the house, paying out before praying.↩
- Everyone tells you “there are vending machines everywhere in Japan” and you’re like haha ok, and then you realize within a few hours of arrival that they’re right. Japan is lousy with vending machines.↩
Why City Benches Are Becoming More Hostile
From NY Times reporter Anna Kodé (whose “intersection of culture and real estate” reporting I’ve been enjoying lately), a short video on the increasingly hostile architecture of NYC.
The spread of the leaning bench and the lack of seating at places like Moynihan or around the city signals to homeless individuals that they are not welcome in these places. It signals to all New Yorkers that these are not social places. These are places to simply pass through.
Here’s a video Vox did on the subject seven years ago.
Being in Japan is offering me such a contrast to so many things in the US. There are benches in public places here and they don’t have spikes all over them. Japan has the world’s lowest rate of homelessness, probably because they take care of people.
In America, we don’t provide housing or much of anything else for people (including a living wage or affordable health care) and the result is that no one can sit down in Penn Station or in a subway station and oh by the way, lots of people have nowhere to live. Why do we do this to ourselves? We could live better lives but we choose not to….for reasons?
Bud Smith built a desk for his truck so he could write during breaks in his work as a mechanic and welder. “Now that I had my Truck Desk, that vehicle was my very own rolling cubicle.”
“Glowing sperm helps to reveal secrets of mosquito sex.” And what are those secrets you might ask? “Female mosquitoes are actually in charge during sex.” Good for her.
Jazz Jungle Mix in a Japanese Rice Field
Courtesy of login.jp (“archiving the Japanese experience through music”), a jazz jungle mix by Takuya Nakamura, played in a Japanese rice field to celebrate the importance of rice in Japanese culture. A trumpet makes a few appearances.
Nakamura recently played a set in an elevator as well. (A trumpet makes a few appearances.)
It’s worth exploring login.jp’s back catalog, including party mix with green onions, techno & house mix in a Japanese fish shop, and chill mix with Japanese grandpa at a stationery shop.
(via mike bates)
Yessss. I noticed that a 4K remaster of Princess Mononoke was playing in some IMAX theaters here in Japan last week, and now the movie is opening wider, with showings w/ English subtitles. So excited to see this!
Every Silver Lining Has a Cloud. “The other reason I want to be open about all of this is that I don’t like the idea of there being any stigma attached to having Parkinson’s disease or, for that matter, any disease.”
Heidi Klum always brings it for Halloween and this year she dressed as Medusa, complete with writhing snake hair. “Her husband, musician Tom Kaulitz, dressed as a man turned to stone.”
I’ve got this queued up to listen to on the Shinkansen later: Lane 8’s Fall 2025 Mixtape. Available on YouTube, Soundcloud, and Apple Music. I’ve added this to my Underscore collection too.
Proof of life! I’m writing a longer post about my time in Kōyasan, but in the meantime, I made this Insta reel of some of the photos I took there.
Walking the Earth
Hey folks. I’m going off the grid for a few days. Call it a spiritual retreat of sorts. I’ll be back soon; be well in the meantime.
The image is of the Great Buddha and a group of adorably chapeaued schoolchildren at the Todai-ji Temple in Nara.
“I fell at the top of a mountain – and knew I had to haul my broken body down or die in the snow.” Holy moly, this is a harrowing tale.
A Chinese naval officer who took part in D-Day wrote an 80-page diary of his time embedded with British forces. “Lam was part of a group of more than 20 Chinese naval officers sent during World War II for training in the U.K. by Chiang Kai-shek.”
A riff on catfishing, “chatfishing” is using an LLM to communicate with prospective dates on the apps. Ohhhh man, this is a cringe-read.
Welcome to Union Glacier
While working as a filmmaker as part of the Scott Expedition, Temujin Doran made a beautifully shot and edited short film about a small team of people who live and work on Antarctica’s Union Glacier during the summer.
For me, this film seems a bit like an antithesis to many expedition and adventure documentaries. There is no great achievement or record broken, nor any real challenge to overcome. Instead it concerns minor details; the everyday tasks of the staff that were made more special by the environment surrounding them. And in fact, I think that’s what attracted me to make this film - the delightful trivialities of an average life, working in Antarctica.
Wes Anderson-esque. (thx, joseph)
This podcast episode looks really interesting: Tressie McMillan Cottom, Jamelle Bouie, and David French “explore how the nation’s fascination with Southern culture reveals deeper truths about race, class, belonging and the power of Trumpism”.
‘I get to do whatever I want in the moment’: why more people are going to gigs, festivals and clubs alone.
Gina Trapani on how she thinks about and uses AI as a former full-time software engineer. “It’s remarkable and so very bad at the same time.”
I’m visiting Kyoto soon, so I reread Lauren Groff’s piece about The Tale of Genji: A Tale of Sex and Intrigue in Imperial Kyoto. “I believe that places, like people, hold memory, and when place memory announces itself, it does so through the body.”
The Jacket Potato Jacket. “Supermarket chain Aldi has teamed up with London fashion brand Agro Studio to create a puffer coat that resembles a giant baked potato.”
Bear Breaks Into California Zoo to Mingle With Other Bears. “A bear came in from the wild, introduced itself to the zoo’s bears and played with their toys, before being shown the exit.”
A Reminder that Protected Bike Lanes Can Make Streets Safer for Everyone. “A 2019 study spanning thirteen years in twelve cities found that protected bike lanes dramatically reduced fatalities for all road users on the streets that added them.”
The ‘Anti-Woke’ Tax That All Americans Are Paying. “Tariffs are the most obvious example” but also food prices rising due to the immigrant crackdown, rising energy prices bc of the regime’s anti-solar bias. And the tax is flowing into corporate coffers.
New essay collection from classicist Emily Wilson: Crossing the Wine-Dark Sea. “From Athenian comedy and Rome’s love of Greek culture to Han Kang’s novels, Cardi B’s lyrics and the discoveries she made whilst translating Homer…”
Ethan Hawke Breaks Down His Career
Listening to Ethan Hawke talk about his career for 30 minutes is a treat. He starts with Explorers (which I loved as a kid) and continues with Dead Poets Society, Before Sunrise, Boyhood, and First Reformed. Good Lord Bird is on the list as well…I’m making my way through the book right now and I’ll be eager to check out the miniseries after I’m finished.
I wish they would have included Gattaca but you have to stop somewhere otherwise the dang thing’s gonna be an hour long.
Hitler, Stalin, Freud, Trotsky, and Franz Joseph all lived within a radius of a few km in Vienna in 1913-14. “Stalin could have, with real probability, walked past a homeless Hitler trying to sell his mediocre watercolor paintings on the street…”
The Neurodivergent Genius Who Invented Formula 1 For Marbles. “This is the story of how one creator on the autism spectrum redefined online sports through marbles, community, and viral spectacle.”
Playing Boards of Canada on a DEC PDP-1 from 1959
This is so so cool and an arrow-splitting bullseye in the middle of my wheelhouse: a short Boards of Canada tune played on a DEC PDP-1, one of the most significant machines in the history of computing.
Here’s a description of what’s going on, courtesy of @dryad.technology on Bluesky:
The PDP-1 doesn’t have sound, but it does have front-panel light bulbs for debugging, so they rewired the light bulb lines into speakers to create 4 square wave channels.
You can read more about The PDP-1: The Machine That Started Hacker Culture:
The bottom line is that the PDP-1 was really the first computer that encouraged users to sit down and play. While IBM machines did the boring but necessary work of business behind closed doors and tended by squads of servants, DEC’s machines found their way into labs and odd corners of institutions where curious folk sat in front of their terminals, fingers poised over keyboards while a simple but powerful phrase was uttered: “I wonder what happens if…” The DEC machines were the first computers that allowed the question, which is really at the heart of the hacker culture, to be answered in real time.
And every day is a good day to listen to Boards of Canada. Oh! And if you’re anywhere near Mountain View, the Computer History Museum has regular demos of the PDP-1 and will play the song if requested!
If anyone would like to see this live, we demo the PDP-1 at the Computer History Museum in Mountain View, CA on the first and third Saturdays of the month, 2:30 and 3:15p. Just ask, and we’ll be happy to play it!
(via @k4r1m.bsky.social)
The Sordid Mystery of a Somalian Meteorite Smuggled into China. “The journey of the ninth-largest meteorite in the world involves lies, smuggling and possibly death.”
Come See Me in the Good Light
It’s not often that a movie trailer makes you cry — but this one might.1
Come See Me in the Good Light is a documentary film about poets Andrea Gibson and Megan Falley facing a cancer diagnosis that took Gibson’s life earlier this year.
This is the beginning of a nightmare, I thought. But stay with me, y’all, because my story is one about happiness, being easier to find, once we realize we do not have forever to find it.
Falley’s letter published just after Gibson’s death will give you a sense of the spirit of the film & the two humans at the center of it:
A couple years ago, Andrea said, “Whenever I leave this world, whether it’s sixty years from now, I wouldn’t want anyone to say I lost some battle. I’ll be a winner that day.”
Whatever beast of emotion bucks or whimpers through you right now, I hope you can hold that line beside it: Andrea didn’t lose anything. If you had been here in our home during the three days of their dying — if you’d seen dozens of friends drift in to help, to say goodbye, to say thank you, to kiss their perfect face, if you’d felt the love that floored every hospice nurse — you would have agreed. Andrea won.
The film is set to premiere Nov 14 on Apple TV.
- A YT commenter: “I am laid low in the gentlest way and this is just the trailer”.↩
Inside NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain Combat Center (c. 1966)
Flashbak has a collection of photos that offer an inside look at NORAD’s Cheyenne Mountain Combat Center as it looked in the mid-60s.
These display screens would display signs of air attack against Canada and the United States. By pushing buttons, the NORAD battle staff members can take an electronic look at the tracks of space satellites or aircraft, which are chartered on the display by computers. This is the nerve center which would give the first warning of attack, and the command post from which NORAD battle commanders would direct the defensive air battle.
(thx, joseph)
Phil Gyford, writing about when he first got online in 1995: My First Months in Cyberspace. “It was a miracle and it changed my life. All of our lives.”
Sumo Tourists in London
I’m totally charmed by these snaps of some of the best sumo wrestlers in the world touring London.
The athletes were in London for a 5-day event at the Royal Albert Hall.
London’s Victorian concert venue has been utterly transformed, complete with six-tonne Japanese temple roof suspended above the ring.
It is here the wrestlers, known as rikishi, will perform their leg stomps to drive away evil spirits, and where they will clap to get the attention of the gods.
And above all this ancient ceremony, a giant, revolving LED screen which wouldn’t look out of place at an American basketball game, offering the audience all the stats and replays they could want.
Sumo may be ancient, and may have strict rules governing every aspect of a rikishi’s conduct, but it still exists in a modern world.
And that modern world is helping spread sumo far beyond Japan’s borders.
The tournament has already concluded; the winner, Hoshoryu, was given a giant bottle of soy sauce:
Anil Dash on The Majority AI View. “Stop being so goddamn creepy and weird about the technology! It’s just tech, everything doesn’t have to become some weird religion that you beat people over the head with, or gamble the entire stock market on.”
Nengiren’s Embroidered Little Woman
How cool are these embroidered Nona Kecil (“little woman”) figures by Indonesian artist Irene Saputra, aka Nengiren. She explained to Colossal what the figures signify:
Nona Kecil’s evolution mirrors my own journey as an artist. Initially, she adorned simple OOTDs with muted colors and straightforward patterns. However, the turning point occurred three years ago when I embraced motherhood. Balancing time between my son and art intensified my experimentation, leading Nona Kecil to explore more expressive and elaborate outfits.
(via @antichrista)
I’d never heard of this before: tearoom ambient, a style of music that arose in post-revolution Czechoslovakia, influenced by new age, ambient, and minimalism music newly imported from the west.
Apple TV to air F1 races in the US for the next 5 years. This is interesting: “Select races and all practice sessions will also be available for free in the Apple TV app.”
Photos of the No Kings protests & rallies that happened in big cities and small towns all across America this weekend.
Kara Walker Creates Haunted Beast From Butchered Confederate Statue
This is incredible: artist Kara Walker took a statue of Confederate general Stonewall Jackson that had stood in Charlottesville, Virginia until 2021, chopped it up, and reconstituted it into a disfigured beast. It’s part of an exhibition of several such works called Monuments, which opens at The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA in LA on October 23. From the press release:
In 2021, The Brick (then known as LAXART) acquired a decommissioned equestrian monument of “Stonewall” Jackson from the city of Charlottesville, Virginia. The monument was given to Kara Walker to create the new work Unmanned Drone (2023). The original bronze statue portrayed Jackson spurring his steed into the heat of battle. Walker dissected the statue and reshuffled the parts in a Hieronymous Bosch-like fashion. The result is still horse and rider, but instead of charging into battle, Walker’s horseman wanders in Civil War purgatory, dragging its sword over a ruined battlefield.
Here’s the statue as it looked in Charlottesville:
Walker described the intent of the work in this NY Times piece:
She likened the result to a haint — a Southern concept with roots in Gullah Geechee culture that designates a spirit that has slipped its human form and roams about making mischief and exacting vengeance. Here, what is deconstructed is not just a statue but the myth of suppressed Confederate glory that it represents. Her sculpture, she suggested, “exists as a sort of haint of itself — the imagination of the Lost Cause having to recognize itself for what it is.”
The Guardian also has a long article on the show and Walker’s piece.
Consumer Reports: Protein Powders and Shakes Contain High Levels of Lead. “More than two-thirds of [tested products] contain more lead in a single serving than our experts say is safe to have in a day.”
More than 170 *US citizens* have been detained and held (and “dragged, tackled, beaten, tased and shot”) by immigration agents this year. “Among the citizens detained are nearly 20 children, including two with cancer.”
Every Televised and Filmed Joy Division Performance
One hour and twenty-five minutes. That’s apparently all of the footage that exists of Joy Division playing their music on TV and in concert. Open Culture’s Colin Marshall writes:
Brian Eno once said of the Velvet Underground that their first album sold only 30,000 copies, but everyone who bought one started a band. Joy Division’s debut Unknown Pleasures sold only 20,000 copies in its initial period of release, but the T‑shirt emblazoned with its cover art — an image of radio waves emanating from a pulsar taken from an astronomy encyclopedia — has long since constituted a commercial-semiotic empire unto itself. That speaks to the vast subcultural influence of the band, despite their only having been active from 1976 to 1980. When we speak of the genre of post-punk, we speak, in large part, of Joy Division and the artists they influenced.
(via open culture)
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