I spent about 6 hours yesterday sitting in A&E of the Royal Infirmary with my dad from 6am to 12noon.

Not once did anyone use the antibacterial handwash in his bay. Not once. But then it was empty so they wouldn’t have had much joy anyway. I did ask a few folk if they’d give me a new one but no joy.

Dad was hooked up to 15 minute blood pressure which was taken automatically, along with his oxygen level and resps. From time to time a nurse had to come in and write these figures down. Most of the time they didn’t say a word to my Dad. No “How are you?” No “I’m just taking a note of this for your file.” No “Everything is looking fine, don’t worry.” No “Can you get you anything?” No nursing. Just note-taking.

At around 8am Dad decided it was breakfast time.  I asked a nurse if it was okay to get him a coffee from the machine in the waiting room. “No,” she replied, “we’ll get it. Just give me a minute.”  An hour later I asked the same nurse if he could get a drink as he suffers from dehydration occasionally and is diabetic.  ”Here’s a cup of water.”  At 10am I asked a nurse who had come to write things down again if they ever got breakfast in this place.  (For I’m pretty sure all the nurses did.) “Only if they are well enough to eat and drink,” was the reply.  ”Well, he is,” I said. “<Sigh> Alright, I’ll get someone to get it for him. Toast ok? Coffee?”  A young smiley nurse brought it to us 10 minutes later. I didn’t see anyone else being offered anything and not all of them were on death’s door. Far from it, as far as I could see. No wonder they are ill.

The doctor was called away 3 times in the course of speaking to us. I have no complaint about that. There were other sick people. He always came back, sometimes after an hour, and apologised. (Dad thought he was too young to be a consultant!)

Dad was to be kept in for observation for it may have been a heart attack but there were no beds.  We were told we’d just have to wait.  But then someone came in who was quite poorly so dad was put out of his cubicle and parked beside the nurses bay in the corridor.  He was meant to be on oxygen but the nurse who was going to get some portable oxygen never returned.

In the course of our time there I watched nurses deal with a drug overdose patient hand-cuffed to 2 policemen. They wore gloves while dealing with her but then would come out and answer the phone while wearing the gloves. What about the next person who picks up with phone without gloves?

I saw lots of things. What I didn’t see was nursing. What I didn’t see was caring.

Is that too harsh?  Were they busy? Yes, I’d say they were kept pretty busy.  But how much longer would it have taken to talk while doing the blood-taking, or the ECG, or pillow plumping – oh sorry, I forgot, there were no pillows. A shortage.  I didn’t see hand-holding, reassuring arms round shoulders, listening. Too busy to listen perhaps? A listening shortage.  I saw nurses deal with a patient and go back to the computer screens and stand and click the mouse until the next task. Filling in on-line forms? Possibly. But most of the time they didn’t type anything, just stood and swirled the mouse around while looking about – but never catching a relative’s eye.

I realise that emergency medicine is different from ward nursing. But I don’t accept that they are too busy to talk and reassure. And I don’t accept that a system can’t be put in place that someone makes breakfast for those in the emergency ward. For they were not all emergencies, as far as I could see.

Bring back Matron. Not to swish around checking the nurses are all working. No, a Matron who walks round the beds asking the patients if everything is okay.

You know what I just LOVE about this sale?  Is that American Eagle site ships to Canada AND actually accepts Paypal, unlike Forever21 or Bluenotes.  Definity getting something from this

O After Effects, da Adobe, é um dos melhores e mais usados editores de vídeo. Ele oferece infinitas possibilidades para edição e criação de vídeo e é uma ferramenta bastante útil para quem faz animações e precisa editá-las. Para nós que usamos Blender, esta é uma dica muito boa, um script que exporta informações de animações feitas do Blender para o After Effects. É possível exportar a animação de câmeras e objetos. O processo é bastante simples como ensina este vídeo tutorial.

Para exportar a animação da câmera (na verdade, a animação de um objeto a sua escolha também será exportada) é utilizado o script 01_Blender2AE_newComp. Neste caso, é necessário que a câmera esteja sendo controlada por um Empty, mas podemos usar o script 99_Blender2AE_newCompNoPOI, que não necessita do Empty. Basta carregar o scrip, selecionar a câmera (que será chamada de BlendCamera no AE) e um objeto, que será um objeto nulo (Null). Se nenhum objeto for selecionado o Null será criado sem nenhuma animação. Feito isso, executamos o script (Alt+P) e salvamos (um arquivo .jsx).

No After Effects o processo também é simples. Vamos em File > Scripts > Run Script File e abrimos o script salvo anteriormente. Se abrirmos o arquivo será criada uma nova composição com uma câmera e um objeto nulo, referentes aos selecionado no Blender. As dimensões da composição serão as mesmas definidas no Blender.

Para exportar a animação de um outro objeto da cena criada no Blender é utilizado o scrip 02_Blender2AE_addObject, que não cria uma nova composição, apenas outro Null na composição já existente. Com o objeto selecionado é só executar o script, salvar o arquivo e abrir no After Effects como no caso anterior.

Os scripts podem ser baixados na página do vídeo tutorial citado acima (link direto para download). É um arquivo compactado que contém as versões antigas e novas dos script.

We’re very concerned to hear the news that bureaucrats in the NHS are discussing plans which might axe services in the Whittington Hospital like the accident and emergency department and the intensive care unit. Today, Alex, Gary and Jess have joined the campaign to save vital services in the hospital.

We are urging Islington residents, and anyone who wants to keep the Whittington’s services safe, to sign this petition to show NHS chiefs that we mean business.

Jess writes “I had an operation at the Whittington four years ago which was performed to an incredibly high standard by a world class consultant. It’s amazing to think that you can get this sort of treatment, free at the point of need when in so many other  countries you have to pay. Why would we want to jeopardise the real improvements in the Whittington by taking away its core services?”

We will be working with our MPs, Jeremy Corbyn  and Emily Thornberry, to build a community campaign against cuts to our local hospital. Please do encourage your friends to sign up to the petition and do get in touch if you would like to tell us why you don’t want services in the Whittington to be downgraded by emailing Jess at jessica@jessicaasato.co.uk

Drug addicts, alcoholics, smokers and psychological addictions. Sure, we know of them. We hear about them all the time in the news, movies, tabloids, etc. Most can name at least one addict they know, or that a friend knows, or just a celebrity. But what is it really like to be an addict? How would it feel to have a close relative, friend, or lover destroying him or herself with harmful habits and not being able to do anything about it? That’s what A&E’s show “Intervention” does; it provides a glimpse of an addict’s life and the effects on others—something we may not have experienced ourselves. Then the show sends the addict, who thinks that he or she is just doing interviews, off to treatment with, well, an unexpected intervention. “Joey,” an episode from the show’s seventh season that aired on August 10, 2009, follows the same course as all of the others…until it doesn’t. This twist makes the episode worth watching, especially if you are a regular viewer…or if you want to see a cameraman get knocked down.

Joey, 25, a dedicated tattoo artist, spends all of his earnings on bags of heroin. His parents divorced when he was three and both remarried. Joey didn’t feel that his father loved him, and when he and his mother moved from the city to the suburbs, he felt that he didn’t fit in with the other kids. Okay, yeah. Every addict usually starts with some emotional trigger. So Joey became addicted to several drugs at 13; his mother sent him to various outpatient rehab centers, which never helped Joey. At 18 he swiped his mother’s credit cards and ended up in jail for a year, where he learned and perfected the art of creating tattoos. Isn’t prison great? Afterwards, Joey went into treatment and his mother gave him $5,000 to begin his career as a tattoo artist. She even gave him a house—all of course on the premise that he remains clean. Bad move, Mom. Joey attended support groups and learned the 12-steps while finding a girlfriend, Sarah…and then got her pregnant. Joey, predictably, spiraled down back into the arms of heroin.

Viewers get to watch Joey shoot up and witness his self-destructive lifestyle. The camera shifts back and forth between Joey’s life and interviews with his family and Sarah. One of the great things that “Intervention” does is that throughout the show, viewers see a black screen with white lettering, which provides information about heroin’s adverse effects, facts about Joey, and anything more to help the viewer understand what others don’t say to the camera. In a way, the show does help people learn drugs’ effects on human bodies, and how an addict’s life is never ideal. Still, viewers have to hear the show’s over-the-top, dramatic music playing for every little emotional scene. Producers Robert Sharenow, Colleen Conway, Dan Partland and Sam Mettle manipulate mundane actions for dramatic effect; after all, they have to make money. It’s all for television.

Each “Intervention” has one of the main intervention specialists (don’t ask me if that’s a real career) lead the intervention, where all of the relatives gather around the addict, who enters thinking it’s his or her last interview. Aha, it’s all been a scam! You’re going to be forced into treatment! Joey gets Ken Seeley, a rather pompous man who is more a camera model than any specialist. Only in this episode, Seeley actually has to do something—in fact a lot of things—that he’s never had to do before. He gets nervous when the episode turns off its regular course and doesn’t achieve a quick resolution. Well, Ken Seeley’s human. That’s something.

The hour-long show normally runs Mondays at 9 p.m. on A&E, but to watch this particular episode, you can go to A&E’s Web site: www.aetv.com. If you want to see “Intervention” change from its usual pattern, this is the show to see. And if you want to know if Joey ever cleans up, the show checks in usually for two three-month periods. It’s a decent, real-life look at how, after intense treatment, some addicts recover and some return to their damaging behaviors.

Esta noche es noche de drama, comedia y música.

Al mismo tiempo veremos 3 opciones imperdibles y diferentes para cada gusto.

Empezemos por el género favorito de todos, la comedia. A las 9PM se verá el estreno de la nueva serie BORED TO DEATH, una “comedia neurótica”. La serie nos muestra la vida de Jonathan Ames: Un escritor frustrado, que para conseguir inspiración, intérpreta sus héroes de su literatura favorita – En su caso detectives. Espero no aburrirme con este estreno. (9PM – HBO/ HBO HD)

A la misma hora, pero en otro canal, se estará emitiendo el penúltimo episodio de la serie THE CLEANER, una de mis series favoritas. El episodio 12 de la segunda temporada se llama “Crossing the Treshold”, en donde un antiguo cliente de William lo llamará para pedirle que ayude a su novia (9PM @ A&E)

También tenemos los premios AMERICAN MUSIC AWARDS 2009, que este año se verán por TNT. Para los premios se espera las presentaciones de Janet Jackson, Black Eyed Peas, Timbaland, Nelly Furtado, Mary J. Blige, Keith Urban, Daughtry, entre otros. (9PM @ TNT)

Para terminar este Domingo, la mezcla de drama, comedia y música en sólo 42 minutos; Esta noche se verá el 5to episodio de la tercera temporada de GOSSIP GIRL: “Rufus Getting Married”, en donde Lily y Rufus deciden adelantar la boda, ¿Pero algo les impedirá que se casen? (11PM @ Warner Channel)

Årstafältet 21 november i ett ögonblicks sol.

• Stockholm har haft 4 soltimmar i november.
• November ger mig vila.
• Vad jag hör glömmer jag, vad jag ser kommer jag ihåg, vad jag gör vet jag.
• Stomatolskylten fyller 100 år.

Well, it’s Saturday and I have to admit that my morning this morning was pretty care-free.  Although, I had put pressure on myself to get some things done.  I got up around ten o’clock this morning.  I haven’t been able to do that in ages and I have to admit that it was rather nice to be able to sleep in a little bit.  Heather, unfortunately, had to take off around seven o’clock this morning for a bus run that she was doing with the Boys’ basketball team for Chenango Valley.  I went downstairs and got right to work on my main project for the day.  I wanted to get all of the music videos from my classroom processed and off of my laptop so that I could clear the hard drive on the laptop.  It’s kind of scary how much space those videos take up.  So, I spent my entire morning in the basement trying to finish those up.  I watched all sorts of TV shows including “The Clone Wars” again and mostly “Flip This House” on A&E.  Around noon, Heather called me and told me she would be home soon.  She said she wanted to go to Wal Mart and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her.

I wanted to go because I needed some things to continue working on my clone trooper helmet with.  So, Heather got home around one o’clock and we took off for Vestal.  We did our shopping at Wal Mart and got some things Heather needed for around the house and I even got a new hot glue gun (since I broke the one I had at the last event).  It’s a pretty cool glue gun.  We also got some odds and ends and I got some sandpaper for my purposes.  We got done shopping and headed over to “Taco Bell” for lunch and then headed over to our “Best Buy” to check out the new store.  I have to admit that it’s nice to have a tech store to take over for the loss of “Circuit City” that left almost six months ago now.  We browsed the store for a little bit and then came home which got us home around three o’clock.  We got home and I went downstairs and started working on the clone helmet some more.  In between working on that I decided to watch the Penn State game.  It was pretty much a runaway from the beginning.

I was then called upstairs for a dinner of leftovers and I had some leftovers Tahoes plate and then went back downstairs and continued processing music videos and then played “Call of Duty 4″ online with my PS3 until it was time to watch “Law and Order SVU” and then Heather and I watched that and then went to bed.

Okay, so let’s talk about Part 2 of Chapter 18 of “Star Wars – Medstar I:  Battle Surgeons, A Clone Wars Novel” by Michael Reaves and Steve Perry……Chapter 18 (Part 2):  Den Dhur sat in the chow hall happy with the fact that he would get cold, hard revenge on Filba the Hutt.  He had found that one thing that the Hutt would not want seen on the evening holonet.  He had found that vengance was now the perfect spice for his food.  No, the food was bland and it had to be local food because soldiers had little room on their transports for the extra luxuries of good food to eat.  Instead, they ate local food or ate RRs – Ready Rations.  They weren’t exactly anything to write home about and that’s why Republic cooks demanded foragers go out the minute a troop transport landed.  Den had been on assignments where the only edible food around were RRs and everyone got thin rather fast.  Luckily, Drongar was full of enough vegetation and animal life that the eating in the chow hall was better than most planets.  He knew anytime he ate something prepared by the military he was eating at his own risk.  Although today, even an RR would taste good since a good story helps to satisfy his appetite to do his job. He looked up and saw Zan going through the line and waved him over.  They talked about Zan’s meal of wrigglers and Zan said that it wasn’t as good as eating at the Manarai on Coruscant.  Dhur was surprised he was able to eat at such a swank establishment and Zan said he came from a family that was fairly well off.  Zan offered him a bite and Den declined as he wondered how a rich man’s son, with a talent as a musicia, would end up in the military……

So what’s intriguing about newly published author Leslie Y. Shen?  Well, for starters, she’s only a high school student.

I admit I loved reading Christopher Paolini’s Eragon, but it never occurred to me that a talent to match his existed out there.  And it doesn’t.  Not for now, at any rate.

Ms. Shen is not on a level with Christopher Paolini.  Do I believe she’ll get to that point sometime later in her career?  Probably, and I look forward to seeing it happen.  In terms of Shen’s debut novella, however, she won’t command the same kind of audience that Paolini does.  Baby Talk, as Shen’s book is titled, will appeal most to a sharply defined group of young, culturally aware readers.

It’s set right here in Palo Alto, Calif., or as the young writer describes it, the town under the “soul-saving sun.”  Here where the kids are trained to be everything and more, protagonist Sophia copes with inadequacy– not to mention identity, love, and general angst.  When she is not being an artist, studying, or remaining firmly silent about physical harassment suffered at the hands of a classmate, she ponders iconic questions of the 21st century:  Where do I belong?  How Asian am I, really? What does it mean to be a woman, and why can’t it be different?  Will I be successful?  How about happy?  Are boyfriends overrated?

The existence led by Sophia and company is a colorful one, despite it being absolutely mundane.  Reality’s there, but at the same time, the characters aren’t really tuned in to it.  Instead they drift “back and forth and sideways” through complex family histories and memories that are touchingly painful in spite of their extreme innocence.

And that’s one of the few complaints one could make about Baby Talk.  It’s baby talk, and yet it isn’t.  Shen is young and inexperienced, and it shows.  At the same time, her obviously naive outlook on life is expressed with language to rival that of many established writers.  Her prose is lyrical, passionate, precocious, sweet– and all carefully constructed to be as ambiguous as possible.  Shen wants her readers to think analytically.

That’s not to say, of course, that you shouldn’t get wrapped up in the story.  It’s a beautiful story, though light on plot, and you get to know several generations’ worth of strong women through the structure of the book.  There are moments of laughter and friendship, but ultimately Shen is ambitious in trying to tackle the sweeping concepts:  love, existence, sexuality, race, happiness, death, forgiveness.  I’m sure her handling of the suicide topic will be controversial in Palo Alto, as will her seemingly anti-adult sentiments.  It’s unclear, however, whether or not she believes what she has written.

As a whole, Baby Talk is an impressive piece of writing.  It has kinks, but the author is stylistically spot-on.  Quick read, best for advanced readers (I’d guess at age groups anywhere in high school or college).  I recommend reading some of the passages several times for the full effect.  The retail price is a bit high, but you might try contacting Ms. Shen herself and asking for a discounted (or free, if you really make an impression)  copy.  I was actually able to chat with the author.  Perfectly nice young lady.

Baby Talk by Leslie Y. Shen

113 pages.  Young adult fiction, literary fiction, Asian, women’s fiction.

Available in paperback ($19.99) and hardcover ($29.99) at Xlibris online.  Coming soon to Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble online.

Contact the author:  lshen10@paly.net

Teenaged author Leslie Shen released her debut piece, Baby Talk, earlier this month.

I invite you all to read and admire a most excellent review of New Moon written by Palo Alto High School journalist Helena Raffel, who is hotter than Robert Pattinson AND probably looks better shirtless (this is urban legend, but it is also solid fact).  Click here for instant movie-gasm, and be sure to check The Paly Voice daily for updates on the recent tuition protests at UC campuses.

by April York
Staff

The craft of quilting has always been a communal activity. During winter term, Dr. Kurt Gohde and Dr. Kremena Todorova’s interdisciplinary studies class called “Community Engagement through the Arts” will be using the practice of quilt-making as an effort to bring the Lexington community together.

Rather than making one big quilt, the plan is to make slipcovers and then display these in the furniture store at 760 N. Limestone St. owned by Marty Clifford, president of the North Limestone Neighborhood Association.

Clifford has been instrumental in helping Gohde and Todorova with the course, and the North Limestone neighborhood is the one that the course primarily works with. In order to involve the community, four quilting bees are planned: one at Third Street Stuff and Coffee, another at the East Seventh Street Center, one at Transylvania in the Campus Center gym on the afternoon of Jan. 30, and a fourth at another yet to be determined location. Everyone is invited to donate scraps of fabric for the quilt and to come to a quilting bee and make a square.No quilting experience is needed.

Gohde and Todorova plan on reaching out to the community and advertising the event through Facebook, Myspace, printed posters, word of mouth and announcements at neighborhood association meetings. In addition, they have secured a community arts project grant from LexArts for the course this year; as a result, LexArts will be promoting the course’s events as well.

The two professors have also established connections with many local publications in the past two years of working with the course. Additionally, the class itself meets off campus, at Griffin VanMeter’s office space on the corner of Loudon and Limestone Streets. Gohde describes the course as an opportunity for “students to thoughtfully and productively” engage with the community, particularly the neighborhoods located north of campus.

Todorova agrees, and commented that while she often teaches literature authored by people at the margin of society, she sees this as an opportunity to “do something practical about it.” She finds it “so ironic” that our Transylvania community, which is in the societal center, is physically right next to a neighborhood at the societal margins.

Other events the course will promote are the opening reception for the exhibition’s installation when it is completed and an open mic night on April 7, where some of the reflective essays the students, instructors and community members write, based off of the “This I Believe Series” on National Public Radio, will be presented.

Last year, Gohde and Todorova wanted to help members of the community feel comfortable coming to Transylvania, so the class project was an exhibition of people’s personal collections in Morlan Gallery. As Gohde explained, if you really look for it, almost everyone has something they collect, whether it be magnets, decorative roosters in one’s kitchen or, in the case of Todorova, napkins. Putting this exhibition together helped students and community members connect on a comfortable level.

by Shannon Baldo
Columnist

I’m a television and movie addict. I love everything having to do with the screen, and I want to share the bits of knowledge I have discovered about the most interesting and most successful shows that most people haven’t yet stumbled across. I hope to introduce you to the best television you (probably) haven’t seen – and if you have something to recommend yourself, please send it along to feed my addiction.

Do not worry, faithful reader. I have decided this week to continue in the vein of my previous two weeks, presenting you with the “Best Sci-fi Television You (Probably) Haven’t Seen.”

This week, however, I have decided to go in a slightly different direction: I am abandoning the new turns that the genre has taken and instead opting for a show that salutes sci-fi’s traditions with respect, dignity and ease.

Thus I present the British science-fiction hit, “Primeval.”

This series focuses on evolutionary biologist Nick Cutter (Douglas Henshall), a professor of paleontology at a British university. When his naïve and goofy, yet brilliant, student Connor Temple (Andrew-Lee Potts) approaches him about recent sightings of strange creatures in a nearby forest, Cutter at first rejects him. He and his graduate assistant Stephen Hart (James Murray), however, finally agree to check out the occurrences.

When they arrive in the forest, however, they happen to find a glowing orb of white – a portal through time, a mysterious fact of the universe later called an “anomaly” – and a handful of dinosaurs that have managed to travel through this portal. With the help of zoologist Abby Maitland (Hannah Spearritt, from “S Club 7” fame), the newly formed team manages to help all of the creatures back to their homes.

As the series progresses, Nick, Connor, Stephen and Abby must band together in order to prevent irreparable damage from occurring around these anomalies. They eventually form the government-funded Anomaly Research Center (ARC) in order to detect these wrinkles in time and to protect the creatures around them, animals and humans alike.

“Primeval” follows the traditional formula for a science fiction show much more akin to “Star Trek” than to the new wave of original, multigenre shows. It focuses on a team of scientists, each with a certain specialty and a certain role, who must enter this brave new world for the purposes of research and progress, only to be met with action, adventure and fantastic new enemies.

The overarching storylines which comprise each season could come straight from a science-fiction show decades ago, and the overall emphasis on weaponry and technology reminds me very much of the genre’s conventions.

Plus, “Primeval” puts an almost overwhelming emphasis on the science-oriented aspect of the scientists’ time travel, particularly in the appearance and characteristics of the creatures they meet.

From tyrannosaurs ransacking airports to the ancestor of a shark swimming along the Thames, from predators from the future resembling bats swarming in parking garages to carnivorous walruses attacking a beach, each of these creatures exists perfectly, from the special effects to the descriptions and assessments of their abilities. Creative license is certainly taken, often to extremes, yet there still remains a strong respect for and focus on these aspects of science.

Though I am typically not much of a fan of conventional science fiction – too much action, not enough development – I have actually stayed interested and intrigued by “Primeval” throughout its three seasons. Perhaps it is the actors that have kept my attention, whose personal drama and dedication to the project seem to keep the action at least somewhat subordinate to the development; perhaps it is the writing, which manages to make me smile even through its incredible superficiality.

Or perhaps, every once in a while, we all just need a little science-fiction inanity of bad special effects, pseudo-science and action-adventure. If that is what you’re craving, “Primeval” is certainly the show to satisfy.

“Primeval” consists of three series and is available on DVD; most episodes appear frequently on BBCAmerica.

The Pontiac Silverdome

If you are a homeowner in the United States, you may have noticed that we are in the midst of a vast, nationwide experiment being conducted to determine what things are actually worth. In the recent past, no one worried much about what their things were worth, if those things were buildings and/or properties.

What were they worth? More than they were worth yesterday.

Unfortunately, those days are gone. They’re as gone as all those 2007 episodes of “Flip This House” which A&E was forced to pull permanently from syndication after it was revealed that featured local developer Sam Leccima was a fraud. Sam didn’t own those houses he claimed to have sold on the show, his renovations were fake, and his profits came solely from scammed investors in his “Leccima Real Estate Company.” Sam didn’t even own a real estate license.

A scant two years later, it turns out Sam wasn’t the only one with outsized notions of his own value. Now we’re all watching our neighbors hang out “House for Sale” signs, followed by “Reduced to Sell” signs, followed by “Make an Offer!” signs.

Optimists in the crowd keep saying that this is a great time to buy. And perhaps it is, especially if you’re looking for a larger home. Something on 127 acres of land and, say, seating for 80,000. Which brings us to today’s Real Estate Bargain of the Day, the Pontiac Silverdome. The former home of the NFL’s Detroit Lions.

Even if you don’t know a touchdown from a home run, you know the Pontiac Silverdome. It’s that stadium that was always on the TV in the other room on Thanksgiving Day while you were in the kitchen helping Aunt Sally mash the turnips. It’s the ancestral home of the Turducken, that vile turkey/duck/chicken thing John Madden was always foisting upon members of the winning football team on Thanksgiving Day.

In 2008, the Pontiac City Council approved the sale of the Pontiac Silverdome to one H. Wallace Parker, president and CEO of Silver Stallion Development Corporation, for $20 million. Parker had some fuzzy notion of building what he called a “horse-themed development” which would include a racetrack and “equine research facility.” He didn’t, however, have access to anything close to $20 million. So the Pontiac City Council reduced the purchase price to $17 million. Still, no go.

On Monday, the Pontiac City Council—which, like everyone else in the state of Michigan, is kinda hard up for cash at the moment—cancelled the existing sale to Parker and auctioned off the Silverdome. Bidding was less than spirited. Indeed, the final bid from an undisclosed Canadian buyer came in at $583,000. I’m betting that the buyer is some retired Saskatchewan wheat farmer who bought it so that he and his buddies can come down on Thanksgiving Day and play their own damned football game with two-hand-touch rules and tubs of Labatt’s beer on ice in both Silverdome end zones.

So there you have it. An accurate barometer of what things are worth in our Great Recession. Are you a little peeved that your $550K house is now worth $400K? Well, how many bathrooms does your house have? Do you have twenty industrial-sized facilities on three floors? How high is your entryway atrium? Can you fit a scoreboard in it? How’s your parking situation? Do you have 127 acres of asphalt, with easy highway access?

No? Then take heart! If Pontiac, Michigan is the future, then the future hasn’t quite arrived in your neck of the woods. Yet.

Amanda ens va portar per a veure aquest pel·lícula de Clint Eastwood on trenca tots els tòpics del que se suposa que és el seu cine. Ens va servir per a reflexionar sobre el sacrifici, la intel·ligència, el valor de la violència, les noves tendències socials i el paper dels majors en els temps actuals. Bona elecció i bona pel·lícula.

Last night I watched two really disturbing shows on A&E. The first one was Intervention. I’ve seen this show before, but this episode was particularly horrible. The show followed an alcoholic mom with three children. Ok, I know I just described a million Americans, but the disturbing thing about this mom was that she drank a bottle of mouthwash a day. Apparently mouthwash has a lot of alcohol in it – I’ve never heard of people drinking mouthwash before. GROSS. Think about what that does to your body!! I seriously almost puked watching the show, it made me ill. The second show I watched was called Hoarders. This show followed a mother and her nine year-old son – both hoarders. This child was so emotionally attached to his stuff, that he had a complete emotional breakdown when they tried to throw away his “favorite cotton ball”. This seems like such a strange affliction for a child!

Seriously, what has the world come to? I think I should lay off the A&E for awhile.

The following is an excerpt from an actual conversation between Conrad Noir and Marco Sparks last night. Yes, this is what they’re really like…

Marco Sparks: So, you’ll never believe this dream I had the other night…

Conrad Noir: I don’t know if I’m really up for a conversation about your hopes and dreams, man.

Marco: Well, when I say “dream,” what I really mean is sweaty, dread-dripping nightmare.

Conrad: Oh yeah? Shit. Nevermind. You know I’m all ears for that. Shoot.

Marco: Well, I’ll tell you about the nightmare in a second, but first let me tell you about my Saturday night…

Conrad: Always a catch, isn’t there? Shit. Okay, tell me about your Saturday ni-

Marco: It was awesome. But then, later on, I was just trying to go sleep, right? And it’s late, I don’t remember the time, but late. So I turn on the TV and put it on mute, just wanting some flickering light and alpha wave manipulation in the room. Or something.

Conrad: Sure, sure. Perfectly normal.

Marco: So then I lay down on the bed. The room I’m in though, there’s no remote. Or, if there is, fuck if I know where it is.

Conrad: Oh, yeah, man’s constant struggle.

Marco: Right, so I’m stuck with whatever the channel is because, well, I’m lazy.

Conrad: I feel that.

Marco: In this particular case, it was A&E. The former Arts & Entertainment channel.

Conrad: “Former” being the operative word.

Marco: Seriously. Airing that late evening/early morning was a seeming non stop marathon of CSI: Miami episodes.

Conrad: Wow. Ouch.

Marco: Ouch is right. And let me tell you, I could not sleep with that on.

Conrad: How do you mean?

Marco: Every five seconds they cut back to a shot of David Caruso! Constantly! And let me tell you, Caruso has two emotional speeds on that show. The first: Putting on his sunglasses. The second: Taking them off again. People could be on fire, running around screaming, bits of their skin melting off or whatever as creatures of the apocalypse commit homicides or devour souls or just what have you, and Caruso’s cool as Fonzie the whole fucking time.

Conrad: That seems accurate with the little bits of it I’ve caught occasionally.

Marco: Also, it’s freakishly bright. Like, too bright and dayglo for even Miami.

Conrad: Okay.

Marco: It would not let me sleep! I turned over, looked at the flickering light patterns on the wall, like some kind of twisted variation on Plato’s Cave and I felt like Caruso was picking me up from the airport and driving me straight to madness!

Conrad: Caruso’s like that.

Marco: This is the guy from NYPD Blue to subjected America to his ass. Why would you want to see this man’s ass?!

Conrad: Or Dennis Franz for that matter.

Marco: Well… obviously. But, so I lay there, squeezing my eyes shut. But it was no good, man. I knew that Caruso was in the room with me. Putting his fucking sunglasses on. Or worse.

Conrad: Worse?

Marco: He could’ve been taking them off again…

Conrad: Okay, so this was the nightmare?

Marco: Oh, no, this was real. Deadly real. Eventually I must’ve passed out from all the stress of his ontological torture and when I woke up, of course, A&E was still on, right?

Conrad: Yeah, of course.

Marco: So, the sun is shining through the window, birds are chirping little songs and I’m a little tired, but I’m breathing a sigh of relief. I’m all like, “Thank God, it’s morning, I made it. I survived!”

Conrad: This is going somewhere bad, isn’t it?

Marco: You bet your goofy ass it is, my friend. Because there on the TV…

Conrad: Yeah?

Marco: Motherfucking Chris Daughtry was on the TV. Somebody was actually interviewing him!

Conrad: Ugh. Gross.

Marco: Exactly! Why would anyone want to interview that fucker? Why is he on the TV? Why did my day have to start with these violent images? It was like… last night I couldn’t enter the domain of sleep and now… Now I can’t be awake with this in the world!

Conrad: I feel like I need a drink now.

Marco: Me too. From just, you know, reliving that traumatic experience. From being the plaything of the sandman.

Conrad: So what was the nightmare?

Marco: Oh, the nightmare. Yeah, sorry. That was last night. I was like in a room, but I wasn’t. I was like “the camera” or whatever. Anyway, there was a little boy and he was trapped in the room. No windows, yet there was moonlight slipping around. And he was sleeping like a little shit does and then goblins crawled out of the cracks in the walls and out from under the bed and cut off his eyelids or something.

Conrad: Damn. I like that. I mean, that’s seriously creepy.

Marco: Yeah, it was something. When I woke up, I knew you’d love it.

Conrad: You were right. And goblins, you say? Wow. Goblins. That part is especially wild. People don’t throw around the word “goblins” all that much anymore.

Marco: Let me tell you something about goblins, my friend. Something you may not know. Something very few people may actually know.

Conrad: Do it.

Marco: Goblins, man. They’re no joke. They’re fucking scary, and they’re fucked up. And they will fuck you up. You understand me?

Conrad: Yes, I believe I do. But let’s talk about something important now. Let’s talk about me and my dreams. And my nightmares.

Marco: Take aim and fire away, baby.

Conrad: So, you know, I’ve been taking melatonin a lot lately, right?

Marco: Cause you can’t get your hands on ambien, right?

Conrad: Yeah, sorta. I got tricked into trying to go all natural, which is a sham. Whenever in doubt, just go with hard drugs.

Marco: Put that on a t-shirt.

Conrad: Don’t tempt me.

Marco: But I feel you. I have several friends who don’t realize they’re becoming recreational vicodin addicts, which is cool, cause this is America and shit. But I can’t do that stuff anymore. It gives me freaky nightmares. I mean, genuinely freaky nightmares. Like, where the goblins show up and tell me I’ll have erectile dysfunction for the rest of my life and or will be forever locked in a mortgage I can’t afford.

Conrad: As long as you’re not longer dreaming about Avril Lavigne, you’ll be fine.

Marco: I’ll have you know: That was a very special time in my life.

Conrad: Anyway… me. And my nightmare.

Marco: Do it.

Conrad: So, I guess you’re supposed to take melatonin only so much, right? Until it stirs up your… well, I don’t know. Something. Some kind of chemical. I’m not a trained doctor or anything. But you take it short term, you get some rest, you move on.

Marco: Gotcha.

Conrad: But I keep taking it because it gives me juicy nightmares. And I’m a horror movie fan.

Marco: I remember that you were a Freddy guy more than a Jason guy.

Conrad: Exactly! Anyway, so the one I had last night… Wowza.

Marco: Oh?

Conrad: Oh yeah. So I’m like wandering around in this fucked up, dark version of Chuck E. Cheese’s, right?

Marco: This already sounds terrifying.

Conrad: Oh, it was. Believe you me. It so was. And there’s all these fat, sweaty white people around me.

Marco: Your ultimate nightmare.

Conrad: My ultimate daymare, you mean. But there they are. And there’s famous gross white people there too. Like Jeffrey Dahmer.

Marco: I remember that Peanut used to date a guy who looked like Jeffrey Dahmer. Man, I hated that guy.

Conrad: Me too. Well, Dahmer, anyway. But he was the guy who, later on I discovered, didn’t belong in the dream. But there was other famous people too. Like Mary Kay Letourneau. And Roman Polanski. And Joey Buttafuoco. And Debra Lafave. And Pete Townshend. And Bobby Fisher. And Gary Glitter!

Marco: Oh shit. You were at a child molester convention!

Conrad: Exactly. By accident, of course. Once I realized what was going on, I was like, “Oh shit, I gotta get the fuck outta here!”

Marco: Shit. I hope so.

Conrad: So I take off for the door, right? But right as I get to it, I notice the little bulletin board listing who all the speakers are going to be at this thing.

Marco: So, it was like a proper convention then? With speakers and talks and things?

Conrad: Yes! Terrifying, right?

Marco: Very.

Conrad: So I’m running my finger down the board, just looking at all the famous names. I remember that R. Kelly was on there, of course.

Marco: Right. Yeah. “Age ain’t nothing but a number,” after all.

Conrad: And then I get to the end. The keynote speaker.

Marco: Ooh, this is going to be good, isn’t it? Who was it?

Conrad: I’m not bullshitting you here. It was Jon Gosselin.

Marco: Oh… wow.

Conrad: I know, right?

Marco: Yeah. Wow. Eeesh.

Conrad: But, whereas everyone else had their name and like a title of what their speech was going to be about or whatever, after his name… there was just one word. One single word.

Marco: What was it?

Conrad: It was simply… “Gangsta.”

Marco: Oh. My.

Conrad: Uh huh. It shocked me away. And I sat there, in my bed, just catching my breath from the sheer intensity of the thing. And I just whispered it back to myself. “Gangsta.”

Marco: Wow…

Conrad: Yeah, I know.

Marco: Yeah.

Conrad: Yeah.

Marco: Yeah, uh… let’s talk about something else, okay?

Har lite svårt att förstå att leråkern jag plöjde igenom i eftermiddags är samma plats som för bara tre månader sen var en mjuk gräsmatta inramad av fylliga buskar och träd. Nu ligger buskarna lite planlöst utspritt som spretiga ihåliga nystan jämte träden som påminner om avbrutna tandpetare. Tur att vi lär oss så tidigt i skolan att naturen inte är död, trots att det ibland ser så ut. Annars hade man lätt kunnat skövla den här plätten för att få ett lite mindre dött uttryck. Här låg jag alltså, för bara tre månader sen, och värmde mig av en stor sol på en klarblå himmel. Och lyssnade på fåglar som kvittrade någonstans inne bland löven. Det enda som hörs nu är Årstalänkens trafik och plasket av mina blöta skor i leran. Jag älskar Sveriges årstider, just skillnaderna gör det så vackert. Men november har jag alltid lite svårt för. Ljusets frånvaro gör att jag drabbas av en mild form av melankoli, vilket innebär att jag inte varje morgon vaknar och gladeligen rullar upp rullgardinen och hoppar in i duschen (duschar gör jag såklart även i november men efter jag legat och gnytt under täcket 30 minuter efter klockan har ringt). Nåväl, det hela brukar lätta i takt med att folk hänger upp julstjärnor. När jag kom hem satte jag på ugnen, öppnade ugnsluckan och körde bildspel med sommarbilder. Sen kändes allt lite ljusare, varmare och mycket bättre.

Ålands hav, juli 2007

Let me first start by saying that having to make rent this way was in no way fun or recommended. Unless you’re retired or insanely dedicated to it. Paying my rent for 6 months via scraping by on reselling thrifted goods was a ton of work. I was able to utilize my in-depth knowledge of web selling platforms to more easily liquidate most of the items. I was able to achieve this feat mainly by selling just a few items each month that made up most of my then $800 a month rent. On a soapbox-rant side note: let me say that when congress or some rogue old senator (who you know doesn’t even use the web) dabbles with the idea of taxing people’s income from selling items on sites like eBay and Etsy, it makes me seriously cringe. Some folks do this for a living and it’s grueling. An extremely slim percentage of the web sellers are making good coin from doing it. Like I said above, reselling items for a living is not what I’d call fun.

HOW DID I DO IT? You have to have a keen eye for items that you know will sell. “Don’t sell what you don’t know.” A bus driver wouldn’t apply for a job as an Army helicopter pilot would he? You have to know what you’re looking at or you’ll waste a lot of money on stuff you can’t liquidate and end up  looking like a hoarder with a garage full of junk. My item of choice was art, because that’s what I’m comfortable in. Having a fine art and design background I was able to find rare prints that had probably been turned in by someone who didn’t know any better. I found real screen prints by David Weidman, hand-colored etchings by UK artist Jo Barry, and ORIGINAL impasto oil paintings by Italian artist P.G. Tiele (which still blows my mind!)  I also found art objects such as original McCoy pottery and vintage little sculptures and plant holders from various artists & eras that sold for amounts that still surprise me to this day. America is a nation of collectors and when they see an item they want or don’t have – you bet your ass they’ll pay for it. What happens is when someone passes, all of their stuff has to be dealt with by their spouse or relatives. Most of the time it’s in hasty fashion and a lot of the items get put in a box and donated to thrift stores – that’s just my guess. Whereby, I heroically pluck them from their dusty shelves and find a better venue for them to be noticed and subsequently sold. In some ways I’m helping keep these works of art from the trash or thrift store purgatory. In a way I’m helping to connect the items with someone who collects or genuinely cherishes that artists’ work.

WHERE DID I FIND THE TIME TO DO ALL OF THIS THRIFTING? I  had the time to pull this off because I was freelancing at in the evenings and would go out and thrift by day to avoid heavy crowds. Being a night owl, doing this by day made it exactly like having a 8-5 day job. I’d set my alarm and get up to go hit my spots 6 days a week. Through this experience I quickly learned how, when, and what time the newest goods were delivered to each location. I even started to notice (and feel) like some of those old creeps sitting in their cars for the stores or garage sales to open, just to be the first to get in there and peruse. QUICK TIP: using a phone with fast and strong internet can help you quick google search any artist or pot or item you think may have good value. I personally use an Apple iPhone  and will attribute it to helping me find and sort through a lot of the stuff I’ve scored over the past couple years, all while shopping in the store!

It’s now been well over a year since I was doing this and have found a real comfort in knowing that if I ever hit a rough patch again in my life, that I’ll be just fine due to my sheer resourcefulness. Anyone can do this if they really have to. It may take a little bit of studying and a keen eye but you can pull it off. The thrill of scoring something you know isn’t supposed to be in there for $2.99 is the best feeling in the world. It’s a rush and it’s frankly why I manifested it into this blog.

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Please stay tuned because my upcoming post will cover the best things to search for at a thrift store.

As I am currently without a computer, now would probably be a good time to get started on all the housecleaning I’ve been talking about doing for the last 18 weeks months.

I told Patrick about this earlier via IM and he just laughed. I’ll show him! That, or I’ll just watch “Hoarders” on television and wonder when they get around to my house.

Today’s Music Monday post is about a British pop/alternative band with a very strange name.

Not many people Stateside have heard of the Sprouts, or know their leader, Paddy McAloon. That’s a shame, since McAloon is a masterfully good songwriter and singer on par with better known British counterparts like Elvis Costello and Paul Weller.

I have a lot more to tell you about Paddy, his music and his career in another post. But for today, let me introduce you to the music of Prefab Sprout.

One of their earliest hits, Appetite, from an early album – called Steve McQueen in the UK and Two Wheels Good here. I love the music, but listen to the lyrics. Just amazing.

A stunningly beautiful song about loving someone – and losing them – called We Let The Stars Go.

Stars was from the Sprouts’ masterpiece Jordan: The Comeback. It’s an album that’s about Howard Hughes. Or Elvis Presley. Or Jesus. Or all of them, or perhaps none of them. Another song from that album: Looking for Atlantis.

Prefab Sprout had another great album in the pipeline. The record company, as record companies often foolishly do, rejected that album and deemed it not commercial enough. They ended up putting out a few Sprout collections, including this gem from the early 90s, If You Don’t Love Me. Not sure about the dude walking around in his underwear.

It was almost 8 years before they came out with a new album, Andromeda Heights, and this spooky, Rebecca-inspired video, Prisoner of the Past.

Paddy’s always had a great affection for America, and his album The Gunman and Other Stories had a cowboy theme. Here’s his song Cowboy Dreams.

And a few months ago, Prefab Sprout finally released the album that had been shelved many years ago, Let’s Change The World With Music. It’s a rock and roll album that’s surprisingly infused with spiritual and religious themes. Here’s Let There Be Music, the opening song.