The three girls are then attacked by household items. Prof shouts to Kung Fu to attack the aunt's cat, Blanche. As Kung Fu lunges into a flying kick, she is eaten by a possessed light fixture. Kung Fu's legs manage to escape and attack the painting of Blanche on the wall. The attacked Blanche portrait spurts blood, causing the room to flood. Prof tries to read the diary to solve the problem, but is pulled under the blood by a monster jar.
This all happens exactly as described.
There are some people out there who are put together differently than most of us, and Alexander Polli is clearly one of them. To me, the only sane response to this video is “are you f*cking kidding me?”
I can admire a person who risks his or her life for the sake of a thrill, but I can’t really understand them. But that’s life for you. Without the people who are willing make the insane leaps, we would be poorer for it. I think a basic irrationality is hardwired into mankind, and while it may be the cause of many griefs, it also put people on the moon.
Being in a different time zone (Norway), I didn’t hear about Boston being bombed until the morning after. The last time I’d been online, I saw that two friends from my RISD days were at the Boston marathon. One as a spectator, one as a participant. Thankfully, both are OK.
As you would, I started thinking about it. When the planes hit the towers on 9/11, it took two days to find out if my friends in Manhattan were OK, and people even called my parents to find out if I’d been anywhere near it.
London has given me much joy over the years, but also some grief. In the 90s, when the IRA and its various offshoots were still trying to level the city, my father was there on business when they struck. (I don’t remember exactly which incident, but I think it was when Paddington and Victoria were targeted) This was before cell phones were ubiquitous, and we had to wait for him to call. And when the subway was bombed in 2005, my cousin and her husband were there. Again, they were fine, having been on the other side of town.
And of course, two years ago, a bomb went off in downtown Oslo, which – horrifically – was only the start of the nightmare.
There’s no point to this beyond the sort of self-absorbed musing one tends to indulge when the world knocks harder on your door than anticipated. Looking back, though, it sure seems like a lot. It also helps put things in perspective and remind me that I’m quite privileged at the end of the day; after all, if you live in Baghdad, the terror visited on Boston would’ve been just another Monday.
With all these enormous changes (population, agricultural, use of fossil fuels) concentrated into such a short period of time, we have unwittingly begun a massive experiment with the system of this planet itself.
Margaret Thatcher – yes, the very same - wrote about her concerns about climate change from carbon dioxide emissions in 1988, like some common treehugger. This may wrinkle some brains on both sides of the aisle, and Gizmodo UK’s feature on Thatcher, the scientist, is well worth a read.
With any luck, Lord Bell and Dr Bong can team up and fight for the environment.
When I look back at the activities I’ve done over the years, they’ll always been solitary: martial arts, athletics (javelin), angling, using computers, drawing and painting. Now, I ride a road bike. Mostly on my own. When I step outside of my preference – which I do all the time – it takes extraordinary amounts of energy. I’m physically and mentally drained, even if I’m having an amazing time. Simply being outside of my preference has that effect.
knowing the true nature of introverts was incredibly liberating for me. Most of my life I thought there was something a little bit broken about me. That I wasn’t quite right. That if I could just snuff out this part of myself everything would be a lot better.
Both these essays hit very close to home.
I dreamt I saw the flying Dutchman soaring above the Thames. Someone on deck must have noticed me, because it made a horrendous turn to – I assume – collect me for an eternity of swabbing decks amidst scurvy-suffering zombie sailors. But as it turned the corner around Parliament and got close, I realized it was just a tiny dinghy and not the imposing frigate I first thought.
Copyright © Christian von Schack | 2002-2013