powderblue
Jul. 3rd, 2015 11:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamamanamathere are two types of summer; white and dark.
white summers are those full of lawn and linen, the sea and soft sunshine, cherries and children’s smiles, in which you feel disconnected and light, almost floating, dreamy and distant in a haze of white dandelion fluff. you don’t ever want to land.
dark summers are honeyed & sulky, full of pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias and un-kept promises. cinematic and shadowy, you exist in a trance of melancholy, and feel passionately, though feign detachment. pandora opens the box, and lightening fills the sky.
-via someone calling themselves paler-than-moon
p.s. there's no "e" in lightning, unless you mean the act of becoming lighter in color, in which case, throw an e in there.
I'd say your challenge was to create mixes based on each type of summer but I don't think I have enough readers for that. But if you want to make one, go ahead. I'm always interested in new music and I'm always interested in the musical tastes of others, even if I'm not always going to make an effort to listen to the stuff they like.
I'd say the contrast between Geogaddi and Music Has the Right to Children kinda fits that but someone else said it was summer (the former) and winter (the latter) which I sometimes agree with, and someone else said "Whilst MHTRTC tends to be a cloud of childhood reminiscence, Geogaddi has been likened to an adolescent uncertainty" and that's even more apt, and someone else said "while we all have our childhood memories of abstract, fuzzy summer days outside, we also have our childhood memories of unease; the monster under the bed, the terror of being seperated from ones parents..." Summer morning and summer night doesn't quite work.
Anyway, all of this reminiscence and lack of anyone to on the Red Line back home meant I spent the ride reading The Final Program and listening to Boards of Canada (the song Skyliner, which, because of a video that doesn't seem to exist on Youtube anymore, will forever make me think of the train ride from Spirited Away, and Geogaddi, even if it is adolescent uncertainty and not childhood reminiscence, because I don't have MHTRTC on my iPod).
On the way there, I met a woman who dabbled in art but she was mostly an actor (sorry, it's my latent Hungarianness) of both film and stage. She asked me if I was an art student and I get that a lot. She said "see you," which doesn't really work, but boribory ny tany, I guess. Another woman told me I was a really good artist.
On the Green Line to Park Street, I drew a woman with longish wavy dark hair and dark eyes who could be ambiguously Asian or Hungarian or maybe both or neither, but not her blonde companion who was turned away from me and then obscured by other passengers, I tried to draw a woman who was distracted by a dog and I can't blame her. The dog's name is Maddox, he has curly fur and he loves trains and he gave me a kiss.
I got a glimpse of a kid wearing christmas lights or more likely fourth of july lights as a necklace.
I wanted to see the Mayan exhibit but it's not there any more. Instead, there's a Pixar exhibit which is awesome. Unfortunately, unlike the MIT museum, there was no way to send pictures of the images you create to yourself. The stop motion lamp sometimes showed people and they looked like earthbound spirits.
It was mostly about the process of rendering the films. It's also amazing how far Pixar has come since Toy Story.
The thing that stands out is someone talking about how, in Wall-E,when the ship tilts, originally there would be people clipping through the chairs and they had to fix it, and I think a lesser filmmaking collective would just ignore a minor thing like that.
Actually, I specifically went to see the butterfly garden, which is awesome.
There's an Atlas moth, which is from Southeast Asia and is the largest moth, and there were little pinkish translucent globs stuck to the window and spoiler alert: they're atlas moth eggs. I asked about the globs because a woman had a display with the life cycle of a carolina moth or something, which included tiny eggs.
Within the cocoon/chrysalis, the lepidopteran is a gelatinous ball and the wings develop around halfway through. Not much is understood about the development from larva to imago because a. the cocoon or chrysalis is opaque and 2. cutting it open tends to kill the pupa.
I'm going to ask Emma about moon moths (not to be confused with luna moths; these guys are from Madagascar) when I see her. One of them was chilling on the window amongst longwings.
There's a really cool yellow and black butterfly and I can't remember its name.
The blue morpho couldn't be fucked to open up his wings for us. Instead, he just displayed his eyespots.
On the other hand, I got to see one of the attendants take a bit of plant off of a butterfly's foot. I don't remember her name. It wasn't Emma, whatever it was. I say that because there were at least two people (this is like saying there are at least six butterflies in the butterfly garden) named Emma there. One Emma was at the Pixar room near this colorful pillar of light that was made for visualizing the colors of fire. I showed her various owl pictures because I asked about the Museum of Science's resident owls and if Otis was still around. The other Emma was in front of one of the duck boats. I thought I saw Hungarian Emma but it turned out to not be her. Her name could be Emma, in fact, it probably is. Or maybe not. Who knows?
there was a butterfly that mimicked a dead leaf.
Owl butterflies' spots are meant to do this: predators that like to eat butterflies see the eyes and they're like "oh shit, an owl."
And it actually works.
I'm not sure what species of locust they had, but for my own reasons, I want to say Nomadacris septemfasciata.
There were brilliantly-colored beetles that weren't jewel beetles, and hissing cockroaches, and millipedes, and a scorpion.
I remember Archimedean Excogitation from my childhood, and I'm going to start by saying that memories are weird, but I remember it being in the same room as the musical staircase, when it's actually in the room where you enter and where the three wings meet. Maybe it's always been there.
I didn't see it the last time I was there (for the Lord of the Rings exhibit) but maybe it's because I was looking in the wrong place.
Actually, when I was in fourth grade or so, there was an exhibit of Lego robots and machines and architecture and there was a smaller Archimedean Excogitation ish kinetic sculpture. I still have the booklet. If it wasn't so late and Massachusetts wasn't turned away from the sun right now, I'd take a photo of it and show you,
It's cool. I can barely distinguish between the veins on my hand and the stamp but it's cool. The lamps in the entrance room are cool. I just noticed them. Maybe they're new.
A woman had green poofy hair. I'm pretty sure she wasn't the same person I met in New York but it was really awesome anyway. She imagines the lion and bears coming to life when we all leave a la Night at the Museum and having an epic battle. Another woman had green dreadlocks.
There are photos that are either extreme closeups or satellite photos and it's really hard to tell which ones are which, which I suppose was the whole point of the exhibit.
I've never seen Cliff; the last time I visited the museum was before they got him. He's one of four complete triceratops fossils, and the museum gets to keep him, fuck yeah!
So you'd think birds and velociraptors would be bird-hipped dinosaurs, not lizard-hipped dinosaurs, because birds obviously have bird hips. You'd also think that the sauropods would be in the same group as stegosaurs and ceratosaurs and ankylosaurs and stuff, but they're actually in the same group as the theropods.
There's a band called Kenyatta Culture Hill and I can't help but think we're getting closer to bands called The New Hitlers and Stalin's Teardrops.
burning question: what kind of music would a band called Stalin's Teardrops play? Maybe a heavier Russian Cherry 2000. Maybe they'd sing communist anthems.
white summers are those full of lawn and linen, the sea and soft sunshine, cherries and children’s smiles, in which you feel disconnected and light, almost floating, dreamy and distant in a haze of white dandelion fluff. you don’t ever want to land.
dark summers are honeyed & sulky, full of pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias and un-kept promises. cinematic and shadowy, you exist in a trance of melancholy, and feel passionately, though feign detachment. pandora opens the box, and lightening fills the sky.
-via someone calling themselves paler-than-moon
p.s. there's no "e" in lightning, unless you mean the act of becoming lighter in color, in which case, throw an e in there.
I'd say your challenge was to create mixes based on each type of summer but I don't think I have enough readers for that. But if you want to make one, go ahead. I'm always interested in new music and I'm always interested in the musical tastes of others, even if I'm not always going to make an effort to listen to the stuff they like.
I'd say the contrast between Geogaddi and Music Has the Right to Children kinda fits that but someone else said it was summer (the former) and winter (the latter) which I sometimes agree with, and someone else said "Whilst MHTRTC tends to be a cloud of childhood reminiscence, Geogaddi has been likened to an adolescent uncertainty" and that's even more apt, and someone else said "while we all have our childhood memories of abstract, fuzzy summer days outside, we also have our childhood memories of unease; the monster under the bed, the terror of being seperated from ones parents..." Summer morning and summer night doesn't quite work.
Anyway, all of this reminiscence and lack of anyone to on the Red Line back home meant I spent the ride reading The Final Program and listening to Boards of Canada (the song Skyliner, which, because of a video that doesn't seem to exist on Youtube anymore, will forever make me think of the train ride from Spirited Away, and Geogaddi, even if it is adolescent uncertainty and not childhood reminiscence, because I don't have MHTRTC on my iPod).
On the way there, I met a woman who dabbled in art but she was mostly an actor (sorry, it's my latent Hungarianness) of both film and stage. She asked me if I was an art student and I get that a lot. She said "see you," which doesn't really work, but boribory ny tany, I guess. Another woman told me I was a really good artist.
On the Green Line to Park Street, I drew a woman with longish wavy dark hair and dark eyes who could be ambiguously Asian or Hungarian or maybe both or neither, but not her blonde companion who was turned away from me and then obscured by other passengers, I tried to draw a woman who was distracted by a dog and I can't blame her. The dog's name is Maddox, he has curly fur and he loves trains and he gave me a kiss.
I got a glimpse of a kid wearing christmas lights or more likely fourth of july lights as a necklace.
I wanted to see the Mayan exhibit but it's not there any more. Instead, there's a Pixar exhibit which is awesome. Unfortunately, unlike the MIT museum, there was no way to send pictures of the images you create to yourself. The stop motion lamp sometimes showed people and they looked like earthbound spirits.
It was mostly about the process of rendering the films. It's also amazing how far Pixar has come since Toy Story.
The thing that stands out is someone talking about how, in Wall-E,
Actually, I specifically went to see the butterfly garden, which is awesome.
There's an Atlas moth, which is from Southeast Asia and is the largest moth, and there were little pinkish translucent globs stuck to the window and spoiler alert: they're atlas moth eggs. I asked about the globs because a woman had a display with the life cycle of a carolina moth or something, which included tiny eggs.
Within the cocoon/chrysalis, the lepidopteran is a gelatinous ball and the wings develop around halfway through. Not much is understood about the development from larva to imago because a. the cocoon or chrysalis is opaque and 2. cutting it open tends to kill the pupa.
I'm going to ask Emma about moon moths (not to be confused with luna moths; these guys are from Madagascar) when I see her. One of them was chilling on the window amongst longwings.
There's a really cool yellow and black butterfly and I can't remember its name.
The blue morpho couldn't be fucked to open up his wings for us. Instead, he just displayed his eyespots.
On the other hand, I got to see one of the attendants take a bit of plant off of a butterfly's foot. I don't remember her name. It wasn't Emma, whatever it was. I say that because there were at least two people (this is like saying there are at least six butterflies in the butterfly garden) named Emma there. One Emma was at the Pixar room near this colorful pillar of light that was made for visualizing the colors of fire. I showed her various owl pictures because I asked about the Museum of Science's resident owls and if Otis was still around. The other Emma was in front of one of the duck boats. I thought I saw Hungarian Emma but it turned out to not be her. Her name could be Emma, in fact, it probably is. Or maybe not. Who knows?
there was a butterfly that mimicked a dead leaf.
Owl butterflies' spots are meant to do this: predators that like to eat butterflies see the eyes and they're like "oh shit, an owl."
And it actually works.
I'm not sure what species of locust they had, but for my own reasons, I want to say Nomadacris septemfasciata.
There were brilliantly-colored beetles that weren't jewel beetles, and hissing cockroaches, and millipedes, and a scorpion.
I remember Archimedean Excogitation from my childhood, and I'm going to start by saying that memories are weird, but I remember it being in the same room as the musical staircase, when it's actually in the room where you enter and where the three wings meet. Maybe it's always been there.
I didn't see it the last time I was there (for the Lord of the Rings exhibit) but maybe it's because I was looking in the wrong place.
Actually, when I was in fourth grade or so, there was an exhibit of Lego robots and machines and architecture and there was a smaller Archimedean Excogitation ish kinetic sculpture. I still have the booklet. If it wasn't so late and Massachusetts wasn't turned away from the sun right now, I'd take a photo of it and show you,
It's cool. I can barely distinguish between the veins on my hand and the stamp but it's cool. The lamps in the entrance room are cool. I just noticed them. Maybe they're new.
A woman had green poofy hair. I'm pretty sure she wasn't the same person I met in New York but it was really awesome anyway. She imagines the lion and bears coming to life when we all leave a la Night at the Museum and having an epic battle. Another woman had green dreadlocks.
There are photos that are either extreme closeups or satellite photos and it's really hard to tell which ones are which, which I suppose was the whole point of the exhibit.
I've never seen Cliff; the last time I visited the museum was before they got him. He's one of four complete triceratops fossils, and the museum gets to keep him, fuck yeah!
So you'd think birds and velociraptors would be bird-hipped dinosaurs, not lizard-hipped dinosaurs, because birds obviously have bird hips. You'd also think that the sauropods would be in the same group as stegosaurs and ceratosaurs and ankylosaurs and stuff, but they're actually in the same group as the theropods.
There's a band called Kenyatta Culture Hill and I can't help but think we're getting closer to bands called The New Hitlers and Stalin's Teardrops.
burning question: what kind of music would a band called Stalin's Teardrops play? Maybe a heavier Russian Cherry 2000. Maybe they'd sing communist anthems.
