the new religion

Visit Google.com. Type in box: 'Flying Spaghetti Monster' and it shows about 234,000 hits.

Have you heard of the latest internet phenomenon? A creation of a Ohio State U. graduate, the FSM theory holds that the universe was created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster. A great parody of the fundamentalist Christian Intelligent Design theory which is to be taught in class along side evolution in biology classes, in Kansas.

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Fashion and parental advice from Mr. T

I pity the fool who will watch this.
Something has to be said for those shorts.

Note: you have to watch an ad before the actual videoclip.

The little black book that could

I’ve always been searching for the perfect notebook. I constantly carry one with me, creased from being carried in my purse. Everything is a journal entry: notes, grocery lists and snatches of conversation, titles and authors of books I might like to read, recipes, songs I want to listen to, rough sketches of things.

When travelling, I spend a lot of time in local pubs and coffee houses and write postcards or an entry in my notebook. It somehow took we away from the bad habit I had of constantly sightseeing through my camera lens. People can spend their entire trip in one silly posture: arms stretched forward, digital camera in hands, eyes squinting at the tiny screen, not looking at where they are going. (Am I the only one seriously annoyed by this?). Anyway, I would draw the most mundane of things: a plant that grows in the cracks of the sidewalk, a plate of food, a hand holding a cup of coffee, my hotel room, whatever. I started to sketch more seriously when I got my hands on a Moleskine notebook in Lausanne, Switzerland and I’ve incorporated Moleskines into my daily life since then. Keeping a travel journal is one of the best things I've ever done to keep my travel experiences fresh in my mind.

At first I thought that my Moleskine was so beautiful I was afraid to draw in it. After all, they have been used by the likes of Hemingway and Picasso; I just didn't feel moleskine-worthy. After a couple of weeks, I got over it and became hooked. These notebooks are very rugged and will last you through your travels. I left one of mine under the rain once, and the pages were still legible and the penciled drawings were fine (but pages with ink pen were smeared). I like it when my notebooks are less precious looking and more solid (no cutesy flowery cheapo journals for me, thank you very much).

The regular-size Moleskine costs about 30$cdn and will last you several months. The company has started to do a less expensive line called the Cahier line, and they are nice for to-do lists and practicing your drawings. Standard models include a pocket to collect the scraps of your life, and a hard black cover. Caro, I know you will appreciate this piece of info: you can buy them at the Papery on Bank.

Words dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face. But black words on a white page are the soul laid bare.— Guy de Maupassant

What are your journal fetishes?

But if you try sometimes

All I wanted was a scone, a nap and a little Billie Holiday. Jeez, it was Sunday. I just did not want to go to a Geezer Rockers concert. We didn’t even have tickets. After I completed my usual Sunday round of Ikea-catalogue-page-flipping reveries, J.D. reminded me that unless I was a weasel, I was not allowed to weasel out of my commitments. He then proceeded to make us salads for dinner, and we were on our way. I am not a big Rolling Stones fan.

J.D. took me to Echo drive, a street surrounding Lansdowne Park. The plan was to eavesdrop somewhere around the open-air stadium, but instead we somehow found a way to get a full view of the stage, and crystal-clear sound. There we were, bobbing heads in the thick of the concert on a small hill between Echo drive and Colonel By drive perched amongst bushes and trees, barely hanging on. On the street in front of us, Harley riders, cars and RVs stopped short, surprised to get such a clear view of the show. Clapping hands and singing along, we felt like we were fully part of the audience, and in so many ways, we were. As we lay on the slippery terrain, mumbling you can’t always get what you want, locals were piling up in the streets, on the sidewalk, on bike lanes, in the bushes, on the canal, everywhere. J.D. was happy : “Regarde ma chérie le vieux Mick comme il cours”. Wait a minute darling, my bum is slipping, my back is hurting and I think I lost my shoe.

To breathe summer night time air and listen to night rhythms, that is what I crave. Jagger is not my favourite song-master, but I would agree that his energetic live efforts are for the common good.

Quite drunk with the pleasure of this find, settling in the sheer sweetness of being alive, we listened to the last songs, watched the final fireworks and walked home to consider the observations du jour. We got what we needed.

(merci Mylène pour la photo)

You say that like it's a bad thing.

Fig. 1. Best metaphor for the Internet ever, courtesy of Cat and Girl.