Just one more

[sam]

On the right is the apartment building where I lived in the early 90s. My place was the first one up from the ground floor with an air conditioner. This makes it the first floor in the UK; the second, in the US. Here's a peek inside.

The Hudson River is just down the street. Initially I thought that skyscraper in the background was the new World Trade Center, but at a mere 781 feet it barely scrapes into the list of the 100 tallest buildings in the US.

[sam]

On the soundtrack of the penultimate episode of Evil. Playing as David examines Leland Townsend's painting of the apocalypse, fading out as Leland comes home and gets a great wallop in the guts. Perfection.

[sam]

[sam]

The Marketplace of Squirrels

It has always been the case that, if your perspective isn't written down and preserved and cited, it doesn't exist. Now, it needs not merely to be recorded, it needs to be repeated, and repeated, and repeated, lest it drop out of sight. We have somehow gone from an oral history, to a written one, full circle to an oral one again, with social media the campfire we tell each other wild tales around, believing them to be true in the moment. Things which go without saying, go unsaid. They don’t make headlines, and they aren’t published or preserved in academic journals. They have to be stated and restated over and over or they don’t appear in our newsfeed, becoming less fresh, less new, less attractive, less true. They corrode over time, not transformed into established wisdom, but old news. Not something to be built on, but something worn out to be replaced.

As long as we're on the subject:
https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/03/book-review-how-our-digital-infatuation-undermines-discourse.html

[sam]

Spotted in a nearby church:

[sam]

I always thought they were singing
All I suggest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

Seems to be commonly misheard, so I don't feel too bad about it.

[sam]

Last night, just as I was settling down to sleep at around 2 in the morning, a cow started bellowing into my ear. He was actually outside (our house isn't quite so open plan), but might as well have been in the same room.

Normally it's just sheep around us, but the farmer has mixed in some not-sheep, much to our consternation. First he strung a flimsy electric temporary fence around our property, because our wood fence is falling down. This hasn't been enough to keep them out. Last time they just trampled it under hoof.

Yesterday a young 'un managed to get on our side of the wire without disturbing it. After it got dark his mates took up residence not far away, and all was quiet. Then they left, leaving this poor cow

on his own. I figured he'd be venting his frustration all night if I didn't do something - but what?

I had some heavy fence posts in the garage, salvaged from an earlier destruction, so I tossed them one by one onto the wire, attempting to provide an escape route. They bounced off, one by one.

Not wanting to meet the cow without a weapon, I got out a rake, intending to set the posts on the wire after disconnecting it from its plastic post. First I lifted it from my side of the gate and attempted to coax him underneath using English, which he didn't speak. My only reward was a mild shock, as I'd donned but a single rubber glove, only having one spare.

It was time to enter the field of potential combat. Laugh if you must, but these edible beasts are legit dangerous. Rake at the ready, I set the posts carefully on the wire, then hurriedly left. Fortunately the cow figured things out, permitting me to retrieve the posts and go back to bed as he left in search of better company, roaring plaintively into the mist.

[sam]

Patricia at the Wellcome Collection. I met her in the Zines Forever! exhibition, about which more later, if I ever get around to it.



My zine, half a lifetime ago.