Cave Paintings

Evan and I saw Werner Herzog's "Cave of Forgotten Dreams" in 3D earlier this week. It has me thinking a lot about the nature of humans. Werner Herzog is kind of hilarious in that he earnestly and honestly sets out to understand the human condition with each documentary he makes - all in a heavy German accent. He is one of Evan's heroes so I am obliged to give him a chance, and I am glad that I have.

Herzog was given special, albeit limited access to film the Chauvet Cave by the French government. Discovered in the early 1990s, these are the oldest cave paintings to ever be found. This film gives some history, musings and interviews from the scientists, archaeologists and art historians, but mostly because it is shot in 3D, it sets out to give the audience the experience of walking in the cave - a sojourn most of us should not and will not ever make. (A nearby cave painting was opened up to the public and subsequently grew mold on the paintings because of the tourists' breath.)



One of the things that struck me most about this is first - how old we are as a species. The oldest paintings in that cave were made 32,000 years ago. Some of the newer paintings in the cave were made about 5,000 years later. Think about that. That is the entire space of written human history - doing the same exact thing they did 5,000 years before.

One of the French archeologists was asked by Herzog what he thought it meant to him to be human, to be a homo sopien, especially when these early caver painters existed at the same time as Neanderthals. To paraphrase, the archeologist said, "Sapien means to know. We do not know. We are homo spiritual. We want to know. That is what defines us."

Another archeologists, Jean Clottes, expands on this idea in the New Yorker article that inspired Herzog to make the film in the first place.

“You can advance a scientific hypothesis without claiming certainty,” Clottes told me one evening. “Everyone agrees that the paintings are, in some way, religious. I’m not a believer myself, and I’m certainly not a mystic. But Homo sapiens is Homo spiritualis. The ability to make tools defines us less than the need to create belief systems that influence nature. And shamanism is the most prevalent belief system of hunter-gatherers.”

Simulacra

Trailers!

Thank you, boing boing.

It is no secret to friends, family and colleagues that I am a big fan of Boing Boing - the everything blog created by science fiction author Cory Doctorow. If you haven't read "Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom" then you should. As a long time fan of both Disney and science fiction this book scratches so many itches.

At least once a day I spam my friends, family and colleagues some article or another sourced from the team at Boingboing ranging in topic from fringe to pertinent science, old videos of house wives undergoing experiments with LSD, book and music recommendations, and esoteric internet rumblings. I enjoy this blog immensely.

It should come as no surprise then that this site has led me to another great discovery. Claire L. Evans. She is the one on the left.

She is the singer from a band called Yacht. They are danceable, infectious, and smart. Megan, Robin, Lauren and I saw them last spring at a street fair and it was a danceable, infectious, and smart performance. And if I remember correctly, Claire sang into an audience member's cell phone.


Calire L. Evans posts reviews of science fiction books and articles on science news. My blog roll keeps getting fatter.

Scienceblogs

SpaceCanon


Happy Memorial Day! Thank you troops of the past, present and future. This is how my dog plans on celebrating.

New New Orleans

I am reading three books set in New Orleans.




Two of these books are for a class and one is for pure pleasure. Take a guess at which one? I'll give you a hint - there are vampires.

I started to read Infinite Jest, but realized that I was also reading Faulkner, and the combined effect of both authors was doing strange, long-winded things to my writing. I scaled it back with some Anne Rice. I recently friended her on Facebook and it was probably one of my better Facebook decisions. I really enjoy her status updates about missing New Orleans and the state of the Catholic Church. I feel like I have a lot in common with her views. And she has been pulling wacky publicity stunts long before Lady Gaga's egg. Behold:


Time to get some work done and hopefully summon up the will and strength to workout. Still sick feeling. It is still cold outside. And I still can't find a reasonably priced, aesthetically pleasing bike for short ladies under five feet. Any suggestions?

Rainbow

Taken from here.

Ping

My Spring semester went in a pretty steady haze interrupted by trips to D.C. with my twin, Puerto Rico with Evan, and visits from my siblings to make our yearly pilgrimage to the comic book convention. And Evan's family visited. Oh! And my brother Mike and his rad girlfriend got engaged!




Plus there was some writing peppered in there somewhere. I settled on which of my novels-in-progress I would like to commit to for my thesis material and had a trio of incredible teachers guiding my way.

Right now I am in my final class and I am sick with something that could very well be some strange ailment only Victorians would catch according to my doctor. There is a ping sound to my cough that has long irritated and pained my family ever since by body learned to cough. My sister calls it the soul-detector, which incidentally sounds like the latest dance craze, or at least should be. Sadly, the cough was present for my entire visit to New Orleans prompting my family to shudder in pain often. Many a crawfish was destroyed in my visit, bicycles were ridden, sno-balls were eaten, the Mississippi rose, and Megan and I walked through City Park often. We also went to the Metairie Cemetery on my last day and saw some pretty incredible crypts.


In spite of my ailment, I went out last night to eat Mexican food with a close friend (a lawyer poetess) I haven't seen in well over a year, and then drag her Jamaican butt to meet other friends I haven't seen in a while, with Evan in tow, to dance at a Smith's themed night at a local bar. It was a stupid move on my part, but it was loads of fun, and makes me long for the day where I can go and not cough my brains out into a wall.

Fortunately, dancing to Morrissey does not require too much movement, just awkward gyrations, which fortunately I am really good at. I will herein call my dancing style the Soul Detector. I hope my dancing and coughing will not bring about some horrible shoegazing, Victorian plague.

http://youtu.be/Igg_2ZqyMzQ

Also - Sookie is still an ace traveler.

Water

Pink Trend

I am horrible at sourcing - but I am sensing a trend, or rather, just witnessing it. I wish I was bold enough to do this to my hair.
This post on Into the Gloss seems like a viable option.

Favorite Performance

That time in the semester again.

Blue Sky

Stole this from NASA's flickr page. Have a million and one things to do. But, this is a lovely distraction.

Bing and Bowie

It is beginning to look a lot like Christmas and I have a great deal of work to finish. Instead of decorating and baking cookies like I would like, I am consuming way too many store bought cookies, and listening to Christmas music while I work.

This was and is my favorite Christmas song. I remember watching it when I was a little girl, and loving every moment of it. Not much has changed. I love Bing's cardigan and Bowie's hair cut.

living in

Design Sponge's Living In series has to be one of my favorite things. I was delighted to see their latest installment - Marie Antoinette.


I believe I have the most important part of the Marie Antoinette aesthetic:


Other favorite living in - Parent Trap

Good stormy weather music.

Pretty

Robert Smith

Sometimes I forget that The Cure exists. Then when I remember it is wonderful.

They always make me think of a couple things:
1. My adolescence in New Orleans. (That is a lot of things.)
2. Kids smoking clove cigarettes at The Neutral Ground.
3. Seeing The Cure in concert at The Saenger.
4. I used to know someone who saw Robert Smith upchuck.


In other news, I got my hair did today. My stylist thinks it is good that I stopped washing my hair with shampoo. You should go to Sparrow.

On one final note, how great would it have been to walk past this?

One of my favorite writers, Neil Gaiman, had a flash wedding with Amanda Palmer from The Dresden Dolls. Jackson Square is my favorite place in the world.

How do you write?

With a monstah on my lap, doy.

Minding the Past.

This is the season for creative nonfiction, which in all honesty, intimidates me a tad. It has always been my plan to write on my parents' storied pasts (because there are just so many stories to not to), but lately I have been tasked with the job of doing this with my own life.

In looking back through all the pictures I have taken just from the past six years or so, and thinking to all those waterlogged photo albums stinking of mold waiting back at home, there is just so much to sift through. According to Flickr, I have 12,923 items on my account. Which in of itself is not a horrible thing.

What is horrible, is thinking of myself as a character - the protagonist - it's enough to make you puke in your soup. I have a mental shelf filled with heroes and role-models aplenty. Fictional and real, they embody certain characteristics I would like to have for myself, but alas, not there or near that.

I am listening to various folk artists as self-assigned homework. They tend to put the ugly parts of themselves with pretty melodies. I think it is all a matter of doing the same with language. Both serve as the sugary reprieve from bitter medicines/ truths.

Luckily, I'm just a bit player in this story:


One final note - get a load of my kin. I could not be prouder.

Peer Pressure

My inspiring, delightful teacher made a rousing speech in class the other day. It was on the four components he believes one needs to become a successful writer. (And I would contend that one would also need these attributes to be a successful human being.)

One of these elements on his list struck me as curious. To paraphrase, it was a matter of selecting a solid, decent, and motivated group of people to call your friends. Selecting makes the whole process sound like making groceries, but I have found over the years, that pruning certain people out of your life as a necessary part of maturation and growth. You want friends that bring the best out of you and vice versa. (I am sure that I have been pruned, in addition to being the pruner.)
As of right now, I have a righteous group of friends - two of them I have already mentioned on this here blog. I met Robin when I was fifteen in Australia on a YFU exchange program. And I met Lauren through the Craigslist gods when looking for a roommate.

First off, it is extremely difficult to find non-cheesecake images of Super Heroines. With that said, my friends are indeed Super Heroes. Seriously, these two are both over 5'10'' and look like they could take on any neerdowell that comes their way. So, I'll just go with this Frank Quitely New X-Men panel that illustrates how cool I think they are.

Which leads me to what I did yesterday. I ran 9.3 miles, 15 kilometers in the Hot Chocolate Race. I did not keep up with my training schedule before the run. It was freezing cold yesterday. And I ranged over a million and two reasons to ditch the race. But, Lauren and Robin, the super heroes that they are, were all ready to go. So I ran the race. All because I felt pressured by their example. Today, I feel sore and achy and like I was dropped onto concrete. Not at all like a Super Hero. But, I also feel accomplished and really glad I did not blow it off. If I hadn't run, I am sure I would feel like a guilty pile right now. Now to go walk like an old lady.

This is Sookie Rae.