In Image

The Sunday Struggle #8

My Sunday's not been much of a struggle this weekend so I figured it best to simply keep it to a Sunday Stencil and Sunday Quote...

- Mankind's Evolution -

Found this stencil while off out on Saturday night. I absolutely love this one. It's such a simple visual representation of mankind's evolution into a military power that has turned on itself. Very powerful visual in my opinion.


"Happiness?

A good wine, a good meal and a good woman.
Or a bad woman.
It depends on how much happiness you can handle."

- George Burns (Via Jo) -

Thru the Lens

I started my new job just a little over 10 days ago now and I'm still trying to find some sort of rhythm that will allow me to fit all my normal activities in and around my new work-shedule. It'll take a while before I'll successfully strike the right balance, and so I will have to ask you to bear with me on this, both in terms of blogging and social contact. I crammed as many social events into my after-work hours last week and it still feels like I've got major catching up to do. But the new workload is challenging and intense, and because I'd like to make a good contribution to the team as soon as possible, I feel like I (for a while at least) need to devote a few hours after work to catch up with all the new things I've been introduced to at work. So I don't loose grip on things until I've been properly trained up.

I have some personal news to tell you all and have mentally drafted 4 non-personal blog topics as well, all of which I'd like to jot down when I find some spare time later this weekend or week. Suffice it to say that I love the job, and that I'm confident some sort of new structure of social life/ work/ blogging/ personal stuff will emerge before too long, which will allow me to take everything on board as usual.

The quickest way to document things right now, is by using my camera phone for easy snapshots. My Fisheye Lens got scratched and I've yet to find a good replacement, so my stencil-shots are taken with a standard lens at the moment.

- Life In Transit -

- Pigeon Domination -

I'm sure most of you have at one time or other been witness to one of my infamous pigeon rants. You know the one: That I have a sneaky paranoid suspicion that pigeons are secretly plotting world domination. Because if you think about it, it all adds up. They have strategically positioned themselves in all our open spaces (easy mass-attack positions), they persistently shit on all our important landmarks and monuments (acts of rebellion), they embody breeding grounds for all sort of nasties and evil germs to which our own immune systems have yet to build resistance (mass production of biological weapons) and well, they look downright shifty what with their beady eyes snapping back and forth constantly on those freakishly dislocated heads of theirs. So I'm convinced pigeons are evil creatures plotting world domination.

Needless to say the recent emergence of pigeon-based stencils around Ghent is making me feel a little uneasy. They are everywhere. This one was positioned right next to an ATM machine. Call me paranoid, but I'd say the Pigeons have stepped up their plotting a notch. I am highly in favor of initiatives such as those taken by Faits Divers (a resto in Ghent), where you are promised a free beverage if you successfully snap the neck of one of the pigeons on their terrace.

[Disclaimer: A highly squeamish individual myself, I would never dream of wringing a pigeon's neck (despite the allure), so all you treehuggers: Back Off!]

- Don't Hold Back for My Benefit -

- Ghent Stencils -

- Cracks in the Foundation -

The Sunday Struggle #7

1. Not a Look-Alike

Photographer Francois Brunelle decided to hunt down and document people that are not genetically related, but do look alike. Some of the images and their stories are downright eerie. The two women below are no relation to each other, but were born on the same day, one hour apart. Both studied dance, moved to Montreal and got tattoos from the same shop. After they met, they realised they also lived in the same building... You couldn't make it up if you tried. For more non-genetic "twins", see here.


2. Jo Whiley's Live Lounge

Following a conversation last weekend, I decided to hunt down some of the Jo Whiley Live Lounge sessions (BBC Radio 1). The Live Lounge used to be my favorite item on her show, for the sole reason that artists were always asked to perform a their own take on someone else's song. I decided to upload my favorite one to the widget box below. If you fancy a wee listen, simply click the song-title. I doubt that anyone will ever be able to top KT Tunstall's take on Missy Elliot's Get Your Freak On, it's potentially the best cover I've ever heard. Other brilliant tracks include: Keane - With or Without You (U2 Cover) and The Kooks - Crazy (Gnarls Barkley Cover). Easily hunted down for free on Limewire.






3. Typorganism and Diggs Lab

A web-based project on kinetic typography (cool to play around with) and an alternative way to visually represent what people are Digging in terms of news.


4. Global Rich List

Want to feel good about your salary? And reconfirm just how privileged you are? Try this site. It tells you just how rich you are compared to the rest of the world.


5. Buddha Bowl

I think I may actually splash out on a few of these, they look so perfect for that delightful Sunday Cuppa. Not too keen on the color but they seem to come in a few other shades as well.


6. Air Guitar Nation

Me thinks one would have to be SERIOUSLY bored before one would actually even consider slipping this into the DVD player, but erm... it takes all sorts I guess.

The Sunday Struggle #6

I've had a very relaxed week and weekend so far, so I doubt this Sunday will be much of a struggle, but here's this week's hot tips:

(1) MindPicnic: This site is highly addictive. It will show you a tiny section of the Google Earth maps and asks you to pin-point/guess where exactly on Earth this image was taken from. It then tells you by how many miles you guessed wrong. I discovered last night that it's an excellent chat game: find yourself a competitive chat-mate and challenge them to beat your closest mileage. (Beware of competitive swearing *cough* Jo *cough*)

(2) When Objects Work: A Belgian company attempting return to Minimalism. Successfully so. I particularly like Yindigo Monchizuki's design:

(3) God's Debris: Disco sent me this link as a Sunday Struggle suggestion and this is exactly what I will be doing for the rest of the day: finishing the book. It can be downloaded for free here. A synopsis of the book:

"Imagine that you meet a very old man who—you eventually realize—knows literally everything. Imagine that he explains for you the great mysteries of life—quantum physics, evolution, God, gravity, light, psychic phenomenon, and probability—in a way so simple, so novel, and so compelling that it all fits together and makes perfect sense. What does it feel like to suddenly understand everything? The thought experiment is this: Try to figure out what’s wrong with the old man’s explanation of reality. Share the book with your smart friends then discuss it later while enjoying a beverage."

( 4) Andreas Gefeller Photography: This is absolutely stunning photography and most definitely the kind I would place on my wall. Birdseye perspectives rendered into entirely new visuals.

(5) Sunday quote to entertain my fellow physicists: "Physics is to Math what Sex is to Masturbation" by the legendary Richard Feynman ;-)

(6) My RSS feed list has grown expansively the last two weeks and for those of you looking for good blogs out there to follow on a regular basis, here's my suggestions:

FlyBottle
excellent, down-to-earth, philosophy blog

Apparent Dip
brilliant blog kept by a geologist with a broad interest.

Science Freak
comprehensive and fun Physics blog

Experimental Philosophy
scientific/neurobiological take on philosophy

Better Living Thru Design
the latest design features

Olelog
blog on Earth Science, aimed at a more scientific audience.

Cosmic Variance
particle physics collective blogging with a twist

Eureka Alert
current events newsflash on just about any field of science.
(warning: this site blogs about 15 posts per day on average, so highly time-consuming)

Defection

After much debate, I've finally decided to defect. As of today, I am no longer a Nokia user, but the proud owner of a Sony Ericsson. It takes some getting used to, but I like the slimness and texture of the new device. Moreover, it has an excellent little camera, which is very easily hidden and used from a vest-sleeve. It's almost sad just how excited I am.

I've also paid a wee visit to the City Kingz graphic art shop in town and have expanded my wishlist by about 10 art books. I intend to get downright mucky next week by putting all my graffitti plans into action. It's time to get down to the nitty gritty bit of decorating my new flat. *grin*


Oh, and I caught this stencil today. The graphic is a tad on the flou side, but it did look nice on those materials.



And to finish this entirely contentless post, has anyone else noticed how the clubscene music has shifted the last couple of months from a style attuned to alcohol to one attuned to pills? It came up in a discussion last night, and I have to admit my friends were bang on with this remark. Not complaining though, even to a sober & responsible individual the beats are fab ;-)

Proof's in the Footage

The advantage of getting your dad's old Super-8 videos digitalized, is that you can finally present some answers to a few of your friend's recurrent questions. (I appologize in advance to those with slow connections).


Q: Were you always a geek with blonde tendencies or have you just recently cultivated that image because it makes you tragically hip?

A: Well...

In my defense, reading a magazine with your glasses upside down allows for an entirely new perspective on the subject matter ;-)

Q: Have you ever had an attitude problem?

A: Watch this clip twice and focus on both me (left) and my male cousin (right). Now, who has got too much testosteron and who has got too much oestrogen? And they say it isn't hereditary. Tsk.

Q: Have you ever been likened to a wee monkey?
A: That depends. Do you mean in manners or in looks? *cough*

Q: Were you always such a debater?

A: Just watch the smallest of the three kids... (Also note the stylish gender-bender outfit which I had been permitted to wear after a tantrum-ridden battle with the parentals just hours earlier.)

Q: Have you ever been captured on film with a dress on or do you always operate in stealth mode when dressing girlie?
A: Yes. But I accessorize with a BMX when operating out of stealth mode. It's a safety blanket.

The Sunday Struggle #2

1. Surfing the web without clicking your Mouse. An excellent concept! (via Lama)


2. Computer Nostalgia: Apache Strike, the first game I ever played on my dad's Mac. I was nine and absolutely hooked. Download it at the Macintosh Garden to while away a few pointless hours on a lazy Sunday.


3. Scottish/English/Irish Accent Audio Archive. Click here for a listen to the Stirling accent (choose voiceclip 1), and you might begin to understand why I bought this book, when I first arrived in Stirling.


4. Robin Rhode: Photography in Motion

5. Cute Word of the Week: Dyke Tyke. The male equivalent of a Fag Hag (via D&TC and The Girlfriend)

6. Sunday Song: Sia - Sunday (click the filename in the box to listen)

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Weird Creatures

I was talking to someone about weird animals today and I remembered an episode in David Attenborough's Life of Birds where he captures the Lyre Bird on film. Not many people seem to know about these birds.

I always thought it was written "Liar Bird" because that's basically what the animal is. A liar. It mimics all the sounds around him, very much like a human beatbox. I found the clip on YouTube after a bit of searching and if you scroll on through to about 2 minutes or so into this 4 minute clip, you will actually hear the Lyre bird make the sound of a picture camera, a car alarm and, more poignantly, of chainsaws cutting down the forest.

No Missfires Please

Thwarted Architecture

A blatant example of what happens when architectural design preceeds the economic growth of a country: airconditioners thwarting the earlier architectural design. Personally, I think they hugely improve the 70's style concrete monstrosities ;)

- Pics taken in Santiago City 10/11/06 -

The Aliens and The Night Bus

Since my arrival in Santiago four weeks ago, I have gone from "utterly lost in a country whose language I don't speak" to "integrated in a fully functional local social network"... and I'm strangely proud of that achievement. I am the only gringa in this social group and while I still speak to my new friends in Spanglish, I am now fully capable of understanding any conversation held within the group. The drunker I get, the more fluent my Spanish becomes. I guess my biggest issue is merely my inhibition to speak it.

I met MJ three weeks ago, when she was on her first night-shift at the hostel. MJ fascinates me beyond measure. She makes a point of using my name at the end of her sentences when addressing me, a habit I've always liked in people. She wears pink fanny-packs, silver-coloured, full-body leotards with bright yellow skirts and has oil-painted a cloudy sky on her converse trainers. A visual artist by day and receptionist by night, she reads George Bataille in vintage paperback & listens to electropop when the hostel tucks in for the night.
We are like fire & water and yet we've everything in common. In terms of aestethics, she hates what I love. What she loves, I simply deem fit for a restraining jacket. Yet we discuss Foucault & Butler, the golden number, strange attractors, indigo children and libido for hours on end, without ever leaving common ground. My fascination has nothing to do with attraction and in some weird way, I believe that makes perfect sense.

When MJ invited me over to her house for a quiet party, I was too intrigued to decline. As I walked through the cast-iron gate of her front door, I tumbled straight into the most delightful mess. The flat was littered with oil-palettes, terpentine bottles, canvasses with works in progress, old vinyls and inflatable animals in the most vivid of colours. The wooden beams in her flat decorated with stencils of a choatic subset of artists. And I suddenly very much wanted to be part of it all.

Sometimes, what appears to us as our most extreme opposite, is really nothing more than an alternate version of ourselves. We're forever geared to focussing on a mere few aspects of ourselves. Maybe it takes a confrontation like this to makes us realise that in fact, the things we haven't been, is perhaps also part of who we are. Maybe that is why I felt so at home on her sofa. At any rate, a merger of some of her friends with some of my earlier SSFs, has materialised into my local group of friends and my days and nights have been more fascinating ever since.

I've learned how to bribe the nightbus driver, so that he lets on six of you for the price of two. In true corruption style, the busdrivers look like they've stepped straight out of a Colombian drugwar. They plaster the ceilings of their busses with blacklights and a psychedelic collection of glowstick aliens and stars. The first time I fetched a ride, I simply couldn't stop laughing. I learned to shout ahead of my stop and jump off the bus when it reaches its slowest acceleration, for it never actually comes to a halt. I discovered it's best not to wear flip flops when doing so.

After the Pisco Sour incident, I've now been initiated into the habit of drinking Piscola and Roncola, which I suspect is nothing more than a cheap knockoff of Rum. People do raid eachothers fridge at their heart's content, without being reprimanded. And the 80's electropop style dancing is in full retro-swing. DJs play inovative Latina bands as well as Vive-la-Fete. Mullets are all the rage and they make it look sexy. I've learned not to leave the dancefloor when people start chanting "baila Pew, baila Pew, baila baila" as it's just a ritual that targets any one individual on any given night and is meant to encourage people to perform a solo dance while others stand around clapping in encouragement. I've taken to the physicality of their dancing like a fish to water, and will miss it when I go home.

I've been shown how to take it easy during the day. To pace myself. To sit and have a coffee without thinking about the next thing. To try and look up close and beyond, rather than just at. That things become a lot easier when people stop defining who or what they are. To go with what I feel at any given time. To listen during discussions, rather than to state my points of view. To just do, rather than to contemplate. And to simply take things as they come.

I have two days left before I leave Santiago and I will sorely miss it when I do. It just comes to show that even four weeks can make a world of difference. Besitos to MJ, Joseline, Yoyo, Camilo and Henrique for such fun times and a home away from home.

More Than Intimate Strangers

The more people find their way to your blog, the harder it becomes to write. It's not as much performance anxiety as it is that my style of writing tends to be quite rooted in my reality. It is very easy to spew your opinions, daily grievances and dallyings, when you know you are entirely anonymous and will, at worst, only be held accountable for your writings by an intimate stranger. When the people that are entertwined with your life find their way to your writings, you suddenly become very vulnerable. While I am perfectly forthright in my person-to-person contacts... I find it a struggle to keep true to my blogstyle, under an ever thinning coat of anonimity. I suspect that too, is a reason why my posts have been more sporadic and less coherent of late.

I have exchanged blog-addresses with several Single Serving Friends, some seem to have found their way to my blog on their own and friends&family from back home check in regularly to see how I'm doing. I think the reason any of us write, is quite simply, to be read. The fact that my posts start reaching more people, is actually a good thing then. I guess I simply have to come to terms with the fact that I need to be prepared to take full responsibility for what I write. And try not to write less because of it.

Losing my cool

I don't often loose my cool to the point where I am screaming at someone. As such, I am not used to dealing with the aftermath of a big fall-out and I guess that is why I am now hiding in one of those dodgy internet cafes until the person I screamed at has left my hostel.

The guy who handles the hostel during the day, seems to have taken an unnecessary liking to me. While I can normally handle situations like that, it is now very quickly spiralling out of control. It all started off as a big joke, with him serenading me every time I passed by. Then, he started doing so when I was mid-conversation with other people. At first, it was difficult to gauge the line between him acting according to cultural differences or him simply being inappropriate by general standards. I tried to explain that Europeans generally value their personal space, and that such actions are considered uncomfortable, to say the least. He then proceeded to throw insults at me, suposedly in jest, in the presence of other people, on a daily basis.

"Oh is HE your new boyfriend then, is he?", "Someone should call ALL your boyfriends back home and tell them what you've been up to here", "You're a bad girl, you misbehave.", "You never cook for me, when will you cook for me"... etc etc...

Last night, a few of us had organised a little party in the hostel lounge and it was all very amicable and fun, until he decided to join in. After about an hour it reached a point where he was physically grabbing stuff out of my hands to get my attention and he'd interupted several conversations. I managed to keep my cool thanks to the presence of a few mates and tried to shove it to the back of my mind. But it'd reached a point where I could no longer be in the hostel without him bothering me and I constantly tried to be elsewhere.

This afternoon, however, I just completely blew my lid. I was actually screaming when I said: "Just back off and leave me the fuck alone, you're SERIOUSLY starting to annoy me now".

I wasn't quite prepared for how shocked he'd be and before he could even start to appologize I slammed the door and walked out. He's thankfully not on shift this weekend and I am going round a friend's house tonight, but I dread having to go back in to grab my stuff and face him.

Why is it, that when I'm harassed and (rightfully) lay into the offender, I am the one that is left feeling guilty?! Sorry. Just seriously in need of a good rant. Hasta Luego Guapos! ;)

Santiago, city of lovers.

"Romance imbues this city like a fog,
sifting down into quiet tables in tiny cafes,
shaded courtyards in plazas
and silent corners of radiant parques"

Stencils - Ct´d

Santiago is an absolute gem in terms of wall-stencils. I have now collected over 500 fisheye-images of stencils in this city alone and I have yet to venture out to the larger suburbs. The presence of these stencils is a very good reflection of the mindset of the local twenty-something generation. They grew up in the aftermath of the Pinochet regime, coming of age in a backdrop of a re-emerging democracy. And the views of our peers here are fascinating and challenging, to say the least.

The group I have been spending most of my time with these last two weeks, consists of a haphazard mix of local chilean students, a French-Brazilian professor of Physics and several American and European backpackers. While the group is generally up for a whole lot of fun and mischief, some days, our outings turn into very heated debates that are never quite settled when we head back to our respective "homes" in the wee hours of the morning.

It is challenging. I realise that while I am fairly well read and educated, my opinions and thoughts are very much set against a sheltered european upbringing. And suddenly I find myself in a country that is still very much dealing with a very brutal recent past. Where 20,000 people were slaughtered in the national sports stadium just a little over 20 years ago. Due to lack of funding, the city has not been able to tear down the stadium or re-build a new one, so all the big sport events are played in the very same spot where many lost fathers, sons, sisters... It´s that violent schizophrenic clash between a rapid evolution towards regained freedom & normality and an unprocessed & unvindicated past.

- Stencil of Pinochet: "¿No me acuerdo?" (I don´t remember)-

Friday night, after several hours of silliness and dancing at a club, we were suddenly all desperately trying to put the world to rights. My American friends gave a stunning proof of insight into their own situation and a rather grim account of how their own beliefs and ideals are gradually shattered to pieces. My chilean friends and I discussed at length the mal-alignment between socialist ideals and socialist practice and we basically concluded that perhaps there no longer is such a thing as a socialist concept, for it´s pretty much fragmented and bastardized. While we´ve all had such nights, the nights I´m having are different for one reason only. We no longer stop at criticisms. We try to move beyond it. For criticism in itself solves nothing. It´s those elusive alternatives we need to pin down. And for the first time in my life, I´m transgressing the line of negatives into a more pro-active way of thinking. These people here are teaching me. Noam Chomsky once said that while he gives talks all over the world, it is only those in the western world that have the ordacity to ask him: "But what can WE do?". Indeed here, that question is simply ridiculed.

On a slightly different note. While off out stencil-hunting yesterday, I bumped into a guy who was doing the same. We got chatting and I am now invited to his exposition of Santiago Street Art next Friday. And because I gave him a few tips as to where to find the more political stencils, I will get in for free. I´ll be seriously jealous if his collection turns out much bigger than mine ;)

A Night Out With Woody

- Urban Fisheye Shots from Auckland, taken 15/10/06 -

I managed to hunt down a new gay club in town and despite my better judgement, decided to spend my Saturday night there. Not accustomed to going to clubs on my lonesome, I felt a little out of place at first. It's a pretty strange feeling to aimlessly stand around with a vodka-tonic in your hand, watching other people have fun. You just know how bystanders must perceive you. It was one of those rare moments where I felt immensely grateful for my aptitude at engaging just about anybody in random conversation and thankfully I found myself adopted by a gang of very cheerful lesbians, within the space of an hour.

Despite their cheeriness, it was a horrifyingly stereotypical encounter and about an hour later I started feeling thoroughly depressed. Each of them looked exactly like their girlfriend's mirror-image, all-but-one wore studded belts in low-hanging jeans and while all had relationships only a mere few months young, they were all cohabiting and owned the stereotypical 1.2 pets. I tried to skew my own cheeriness levels with ample supplies of vodka, but to no avail. So, just after midnight, I decided to venture further into town and find myself some new company and higher spirits.

Strolling down the busy nightlife-district, I located some funky tunes and strolled into what looked like a friendly little club. On my way to the bar, I noticed a pile of wrapped gifts on a table next to the DJ-stand and it started to dawn on me that I must have strolled into a private function. Everyone was properly dressed up, yet there I was in what backpackers like to pass off as their "fancy outfit": least-crinkled T-shirt of the pile, jeans and the pair of trainers we wear just about everywhere. Needless to say I stood out like a redhead in Italy. I decided I better come up with a solid story in case anyone enquired about my reasons for being there.

As I made my way to the dancefloor for a bit of dancing, I spotted someone distinctly like myself: an obvious outsider. I strolled up to him to introduce myself and by luck of the draw, he turned out to be a European backpacker staying in the very same hostel. My new friend was incredibly likeable, being a junior version of the genius Woody Allen both in appearance and neuroticisms. I happen to have a very strange penchant for just about anything Woody-related, so my seratonin levels reached a comfortable high.

Over the course of the evening, I was repeatedly asked whether I was friends with the bride or the groom and the more people I got to know, the more elaborate my story became. By the end of the night, everyone believed me to be the Swedish relative of D. who just so happened to be J.'s boyfriend, who in turn was the best friend of the bride's sister. I think everyone was sufficiently drunk to miss the effective link of that trail and so I spent a wonderful night amidst a recently acquired long-term circle of friends and relatives.

Woody and I made a sport out of scoring free drinks for one another, reasoning that our status as poor backpackers entitled us to setting aside all ethics. And let me tell you... it's amazing what a pair of boobs can achieve. Being gay, it's much harder to impress potential partners with those assets as they more often than not have a decent pair themselves, but the straight male specimens... well, they represent an untapped source of freebees to a person like myself.

A cute bartender politely asked me whether it'd be OK for him to hit on me. Stunned by his politeness, but drunk enough to ignore the ethical implications involved with his question, I swiftly brokered myself a deal: Yes he could hit on me, IF I got to drink for free for the rest of the night. In my opinion, that tied me into nothing substantial. And so it was that I got served Vodka-Red Bull's and White Russians at the high cost of being paid sweet compliments all night. I may have to reconsider my sexuality, as this is far more lucrative than bartering with lesbians. In my experience, lesbians simply want to steal your clothes ;-)

By the time I got home, I was very drunk indeed. Not a major achievement seeing as I'm pretty much a lightweight T-Total, but very drunk nonetheless. I managed to catch a full hour's sleep before being kicked out of my room at the ungodly hour of 10am. This, however, fades into nothingness compared to Woody's ordeal, as he fell asleep on a bench in the neighbouring park and was rudely awoken by a bird shitting on his head.



Being made bedless, I decided to take my hangover to the only place I could think off that would provide me sufficient survival chances on such a brutal Sunday morning: the matinee movies. For reasons beyond me, I decided to see the much acclaimed "Brick" and while I'm sure it was a fantastic film, I simply didn't get any of it. Although, I did manage to suss out that it was dark comedy: People seemed to keep laughing despite the fact that plenty of people were being killed-off on screen.

Because my next dormbed wouldn't be ready for a nap till the afternoon, I had no choice but to kill some time downtown once the movie was finished. And as I'm wandering around, I happen upon the following:

FREE STRESS TEST!!! So I'm thinking: This should be fun right?! I'm on a 6-month holiday and my biggest stress these days is deciding whether I should buy a fresh bottle of water or top my old one up for free in the hostel. I mean... how much more relaxed can a person possibly get?!?

Very amused with myself to start with, I let the guy hook me up to his machine. It is only then that it dawns on me that the words on the guy's shirt spell out: DIANETICS. This simply made my day: What better form of entertainment for a hungover physicist, than an argument with quantum-abusers?!? We all love playing the pedantic facetious prick every now and then.

Guy: "So I'm just going to hook you up to our little machine here and what it does, basically, is that it measures your thoughts. I will spare you the details..."
Me: "No go ahead. I'm a physicist with another 4 months of spare time on her hands. Indulge me."

At this point, the guy turns bright red and starts stuttering:

Guy: "Oh... OK. Erm... well, the man who invented this is actually a physicist himself, you see. So OK, you want the details I suppose?"
Me: "Yes. Please." *wide excited pre-battle grin*
Guy: "Ok... well... we're all electric energy you see, like our neurons? The man who invented this managed to prove that there are simply not enough braincells to store all of our memories and impressions, so he reasoned they must be stored outside our body and around us in some form of energy. We've proven that if you weigh a person with his painful memories, he actually weighs more than if you weigh him without his painful memories. Thoughts are matter you see. Now, if you would hold onto this machine, it works on the basis of a Wheatstone bridge, which being a physicist, you're undoubtedly familiar with. I will ask you some questions and we'll see what the machine picks up."
Me: "Hang on. Question. If my thoughts and memories are stored in an energy form outside my body... then why exactly am I asked to hold these two metal bars? Surely you should be simply placing them somewhere around me, you know, to pick up all that outer body energy?"

I shall spare you the rest of the conversation, but suffice it to say the guy became quite flustered and frustrated and I had a great deal of fun. By the end of the conversation, the guy decides to have a go at selling me a book, which I refuse to buy, thereby aggravating his frustration.

Guy: "Well, at least check out our website and then maybe buy it later... it's www.scientolo... *he stops abruptly, turns even redder and corrects himself* ... I mean www.dianetics.org"
Me: "Man, Tom Cruise really fucked that line up for you guys didn't he?"

It's sad to say how content I felt when I sat down for lunch an hour later, despite the hangover. Some weekends are just perfect ;-)

Geothermal Wonderland

I'm in Rotorua (Wai-o-Tapu) at the moment which means that while you guys are sat on a comfortable 30 kms of earthcrust, my own bum is a mere 7 kms away from a whirlpool of magma. Because the Earth's crust is so much thinner here than in the rest of the inhabited world, the whole area is rather unstable. Rotorua experiences around 900 light earthquakes a year and is drenched is the unmistakable smell of sulphur. Everywhere you go it's pretty much as if you've stuck your nose in a box of rotting eggs. On the streets, rain-drains and sewerholes are continuosly steaming due to the natural hot springs that are doted around the town.

It does make for some stunning scenery though: