Day: November 3, 2004

I have been reminded yet again that not everyone knows of the handy websites I use every day.

http://s3.yousendit.com/ – allows you to send large files. I use it mainly to share music and shorter videos.

http://del.icio.us/foxtongue – stores bookmarks on-line, accessable from anywhere. I’m newer to this and so I forget it, but I’m finding myself growing to like it very much.

http://flickr.com/people/foxtongue/ – exceptional linked photo space for sharing, blogging, more useful as anything yet made

http://www.mperia.com/ – a bitpass place for indies. A wide range of tasty music, all listenable without payment.

At any given instant
All solids dissolve, no wheels revolve,
And facts have no endurance—
And who knows if it is by design or pure inadvertence
That the Present destroys it’s inherited self-importance?

—W.H. Auden (1944)

What happens when we have no more heroes? It’s like our biggest secret. What happens when what we worship becomes human, when we realize what we idolize is just like us.

I don’t think we need religion, but we need heroes. Blazing tales of creation we’ve carried from the campfire to a modern landscape of silver screen stars. It’s not about gods, it’s about the way we’re wired. A heart to heart with heaven, “You’re one of the lucky”, it matters what I do with this. We are sad little ghosts, creating special people, celebrity trails of undiluted glory and light.

But they’re not. I had breakfast with someone who spoke in awe about my friends and friends of friends. Envy dripping to his plate yellow as the yolk of the egg I swiped up with my brown bread toast. He didn’t know the compartmentalizations inside my brain. The way my neural network touches these people. I didn’t have to care, but I did. I’ve seduced my heroes, shattered my poets. I’m Penny Lane to the world I want. Techno tart perfect, I don’t need this.

I am potent, I can conquer.

To my American friends, I say this, as a Canadian, I can offer you a little bit of freedom.
To those of you trapped, I can offer my hand in marriage.
There’s nothing that doesn’t say we can’t lie about consummation.

I still want Cascadia to happen.

On a similar note – does anyone know if I can British Citizenship through a grandmother? I loathe this place. It’s too new, there’s no history here, no stones to walk on. Trapped by it’s mountains and the small townies who think they’re in a city now. It’s terrible. If not, does anyone over there want me?

Is there a local Guy Fawks? Effigy burning might be a nice thing to do this week.

I woke this morning in the friendly room. Non-euclidean until I focused-put-on-my my eyes, the master bedroom is nicely lit by sun in spite of being in the basement. I could like it here, comfortable is cluttered with AV gear sure, but not for long. Don’t ask me to live here. November light is somehow more diffuse than October’s. Fill me with something other than this chocolate cookie and passionfruit juice breakfast. Bitter stale chips of political revelation don’t count. I don’t remember feeling so empty over a swan song vote.

Tonight is the house-warming/goodbye.