A poem: Never no more

Never no more
Never no more

It was just one slap.

Didn’t even hurt that much.

Shuddered your walls though.

 

It was just the one slap

As if to correct an unruly child.

(taking candy without asking!)

One of those e-d-u-c-a-t-i-o-n-a-l ones.

with the certainty of more.

(If you persist, that is.)

But  you are no kid   no more.

And  you don’t take no shite.

Not from anyone.

Not anymore.

 

Not from your ex.

(His shite you put up with for so long, so very long)

 

Not from your internet suitors.

(Virtual dating shite, that is.)

And not from him no more,

not anymore.

 

It was the weakest of pats.

The kind you gave your kids once.

(Long time, long time ago.)

That kind he gave you now.

(Then and now, then and now.)

But you’re no kid no more,

not anymore.

 

It barely brushed your cheek.

but it iced your soul.

A  chilled chilling silence spreading

(to the back seats).

Your children, subdued

“If you are going to be like that,”

he says,

“you better get out!.”

 

And you do.

For you’re no kid no more,

not anymore.

 

He is the first man,

and he won’t be the last.

But you won’t take no shite no more,

not anymore,

never no more.

 

SL11B: The Box

A movie about my installation at sl11b. That is the eleventh birthday of second life.

 

‘The box’ is a fluke that I got after a friend (Veleda Lorakeet) made the black frame that forms the backbone of the exhibit. I thought the box with boxes insides looked a bit like self contained existence with smaller existences inside it and I somehow recalled the thought experiment of Schroedinger’s cat. In essence this experiment boils down to this: nothing happens to the cat until you take a look.. Hence just by looking at something you influence it.
Now you too can influence something and take a look inside the box by pressing on the prim with the EE symbol on it and, like an all powerful being, create existences -or not- for the mice. All imaginary of course. Just like SL.
Be in awe of the cat.
Have fun.

 

Two nekos: credits for other people’s merits -4: Exhale, UfO Abduction & Slave

slave-by IGOR-1
Slave by IGOR

 

We were a bit pressured for time, because  the SL11B event was approaching  it’s end, so we are not in them pictures this time. Just takes some organizing to get everyone together. Nevertheless here are some we liked or which somehow caught our attention. It will be almost be last one. The last one? No  wait there will be two more. The next one will be a post dedicated to one artist alone. It is one that we discovered quite late and we liked. Most of all Taubie,she goes for eyecandy. 😛
All the pictures you see here are not exactly as they might appear on your viewer. That is because Taubie likes tweaking a bit with Photoshop, which is why we do this anyways, so Taubie can learn Photoshop.

Above the first picture: Slave by Igor. It is best just to have a look at the picture. You’ll get the drift.

Exhale-by-Eliza-Wierwight-1
Exhale by Eliza Wierwight

The next one is Exhale by Eliza Wierwight. No comment either. cause you can read the text, can’t you? We liked the shadows and the light from the back.  The installation looks better then this picture.

UFO-Abduction-
UFO Abduction

This one was a bit funny. I hope that it was meant to be funny that is. (You never know in SL). Didn’t say much else beyond: UFO Abduction.  I guess we got a peculiar future to look forward to.

 

Movie review: Farewell (2009)

poster_farewell

 

 

“That was different,” Henry said. They we lounging in the front seats, as usual. He ruffled his short dark hair, longer on the top and short on the sides. Then Kristl handed him a bottle. He glanced at it. Weltenburger Barock Dunkel, an European beer of some kind. Sounded German.  The beer was something Kristl had brought with her. He had looked at it with a certain wariness. She liked to buy these heavy beers that knocked you out flat after you had taken two. All fun, unless you had a date with Jennifer. He didn’t want to mess up that one.

Kristl waved any remarks away before he could had a chance to say anything, “Only four point seven percent. Enjoy.”

“I thought it would be a movie, but it’s more like a story read out aloud illustrated with footage from the area,” Henry continued.

“I found it interesting nonetheless. It is strangely catchy, even though there isn’t any acting. A love story during a voyage around the world in a zeppelin. And with the footage from 1929 it was interesting to look at.  It created a mood from the time.

“And there was even some excitement and anxiety, for instance when they travelled over the soviet-union or were blown off course when they crossed the pacific.. ”

“I just wonder if we had looked at it if we had known. It wasn’t actually a movie, but more a documentary brought in the form of a related story. I think we would have skipped it, wouldn’t you think.”

“Uhmm well, I did not check if it was a movie. The cover intrigued me, you know. The era is fascinating with flappers, jazz music, experimental cinema, bauhaus, prohibition, zeppelin and such. And perhaps also because shortly after the wall street crash would occur and the economy would take a nose dive. Then hitler would come to power and the world would become a lot more grim.”

“In this case it was okay. I liked the story and the narrator has fitting voice. I could belief she was that female reporter, alone in a zeppelin full of men.”

“Somehow you seem to…”

“I didn’t mean to make it sound like a cheap you-know-what movie.”

“Heh… Nevermind about that. I am happy though that you liked this non-violent story. Did you realize that there was no violence in it at all?”

“No violence? True. It was a love story with no fighting. Strange..”

“You could even label this movie with: absolutely nobody got hurt in this movie,” Kris paused and looked at Henry, “What do you mean with ‘strange’?”

“Usually I like a bit of action and action usually implies…violence or the promise of violence.”

“Maybe you are changing?”

Henry thought about that in the silence in which he finished his beer. Kristl was about to hand him another one, but he shook his head.

“Even more changes?”

“Not at all. I got a date with Jennifer. A dinner date. I like to have my wits about me. ”

“A date? Before you know it you have settled, a mortgage and a score of kids trailing you.”

“Who knows,” Henry said.

“Good luck then.. dad.”

Henry looked at Kristl taking a sip from her second beer.

“I could save you one for later,” Kristl said.

“It wouldn’t mind that.”

“Done.. now off you go. Your destiny awaits.”

And Henry exited the garage-turned-movie theater leaving Kristl behind with three bottles of Weltenburger Barock Dunkel.

 

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1675307/

Bookreview: And the hippos were boiled in their tanks.

And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their TanksAnd the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks by William S. Burroughs

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

After reading Junky I discovered this book by Burroughs among the books dubbed as crime novels in my local public library. It was probably labelled as such because there is a murder in it and I don’t think the library has a label for literature as such. So it would be the most logical choice from their viewpoint, but somehow this label doesn’t fit the book.
From the introduction and comments I gather that Burroughs and the co-writer Jack Kerouac were part of a literary movement called the Beat generation and that this book was written before they became famous. In fact the book was published after they both died because it was deliberately put off. It was the wish of one of the people involved in the murder that it would not be published in his lifetime. It ended up as being published in nobodies lifetime..
The result of the delay at publication was that the book gained a mythical state. Like many things that are unknown it peeks the interest, gains notoriety and heightens expectations.
But what were the results?
The book seems a lot like Junky, with the same down-on-their-luck types as feature in that book, but a little bit less criminal. Most of the people are poor and some are the brink of crime. The best term to define them is: a bunch of freeloaders. They live on the money others make and they get that money by borrowing and not paying back, gaining it in a half legal way or by outright crime. For example: one of the characters pawns the diamonds of a relative, pocketing the money for himself, without letting the relative know.
Most of the book describes this freeloader life from various angles and against this backdrop is set the awkward semi-gay relation between a young man and an older man that finally ends in a death. The book is however not a crime novel. There isn’t a real upbeat towards the killing, nor any investigation or anything else that is part of a crime novel. The murder itself and the aftermath actually are only a small part of the book and occur well in the end. It feels almost as and anti-climax when it does, which it probably will be for anyone attracted to crime novels. The murder isn’t what the book is about.
But what is?
The charm of the book is the writing, which is to the point and frugal. Just like in Junky there is not a word too much it this book and no beating about the bush. The story is told straight and without any moral justification from the writer. Crime happens, people steal, someone gets robbed. It all is told in the same way as the writer tells that people had a bite, took a leak or banged their girlfriend.
The characters in the book have opinions of course, but nothing is morally weighted by the writer. Everything is told as it happens, to the point. It is almost clinical.
I like the writing style as a way to learn how to write. The shortness of the book combined with a efficient writing style made it readable.
The problem I foresee for me is that much more of this will start to bore. If a bigger book would be filled with just more scenes of freeloading then such book will become a tedious read. It does make me curious about the books that made Burroughs famous. I assume there must be a lot more to them.

www.meritcoba.com

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SL11B: The box

sl11b-the-box
The box

 

 

The box was an art installation we (that is Taubie and me) made for the anniversary of Emphatic Eccentricia. A slightly altered version was made for the eleventh birthday of second life. That is the one these pictures are from. The box started when Veleda Lorakeet made a frame in Osgrid from prims. She is currently making this frame in real life. The frame made me think of self contained worlds within a larger world. So after some fabrication I came up with an installation based on a thought experiment by Schroedinger know as Schroedinger’s cat. The experiment can be found here.
So here are picture of The box,  the metaverse containing the universes for these mouse-like creatures.

the-box-2
Mouse?

 

 

the-box-6
The box installation

The box works like this. When you press the red box you see floating in the above picture, the box will open and show a random set of universes brought to live.

the-box-3
A happy dance.

 

the-box-7
Worship

 

 

the-box-5
The one that got away and the one that fell off.

Bookreview: No Country for Old Men

No Country for Old MenNo Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It is a twist of fate.
The public library in my home town, with only three bookcases of English books, harbors a few books that have been turned into movies at one time or another.
Perhaps not too surprising considering that the preponderance of crime novels and crime novels seem to be a favorite genre of books to turn into a movie.
And one of them is ‘No Country for Old Men’.
It’s a depressing title for sure. It invokes the image of cranky oldsters reminiscing how everything used to be better: the milk, the butter, the cheese, the people and the crime.
And it is that kind of book.
It would have been boring, if the writer hadn’t employed a few things to keep your attention.
First is the MacGuffin of the story. A man, called Moss, runs into a crime scene and finds a suitcase with a few million dollars. Everyone is dead, nobody knows he is there. What would you do?
Moss takes the money and runs.
But running isn’t as easy as he might think. For one, there is family to contend with, and for another, a lot of a other people want that money as well.
One of those is the coldhearted psychopath Anton Chigurh. The man carves a path of dead bodies through humanity. The dead pile up wherever he goes.
Next to him are a lot of shady, often unnamed, types that take potshots at Moss. Most of them are more meat for the meat grinder that Chigurh is. More dead bodies.
Next to those are the authorities, represented by Sheriff Bell, the old man in the title.
The whole story then proceeds along these three lines: Moss, Chigurh and Bell and ends in a tone true to the title: sad. I leave it open how sad exactly.
There is however something problematic with this book. The whole psychopath-goes-wild-theme is somewhat too fabricated. For some reason Chigurh gets away with murdering scores of people without the FBI getting involved. McCarthy paints us a picture of a wacko massacring a lot of people, often in the open, and he doesn’t get caught or even suspected and so Bell can exclaim ‘this is no country for old men’ and ponder quitting his job. I found that a weak element in the book. It is simply unbelievable that anyone can get away with what Chigurh did without the federals getting on his case and someone gunning him down.

Now this all makes for a book that would not have gotten more than three stars from me, if it wasn’t for the writing style. McCarthy uses various styles to tell the story. There is the internal monologue of Bell. There is the third person view of Moss and Chigurh and there is the for me interesting style of dialog.
I am used to write dialog like this:
“Where are you driving to?,” Merit says.
But McCarthy writes it down like this:
Where you going?
No “”, and usually no indicating of who says what. This could become confusing if not handled properly, but McCarthy does as he pulls it off if you pay attention. Sometimes I had to read back a little, but he usually keeps it clean enough so you are sure who is saying what.

For that I am giving McCarthy some extra credits. That is why I give the book 4 stars.

www.meritcoba.com

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