A New Photodea.

Every day on my walk to the bus stop, I walk along a low stone wall.  I’m not sure how it got there, or why, as it stretches across the property of a church, about 10 houses, and an apartment building.  Perhaps it is a piece of the original ‘beautiful hill’ of Belmont.  Regardless, it is one of the most interesting and visually intriguing aspects of my walk.  In this wall, there is variety.  Mosses and ferns grown in damp chinks of it.  The first rays of morning warm its stony top in others.  It is because of this wall, and the variety of perspectives that can be seen along it, that I got my new photo idea about perspective.

I want to take pictures from the wall all along its expanse, the things you will see from its top.  I want to contrast the weedy barrenness of a parking lot with the quiet cluster of a shady grove of trees with the stars of white violets in dark, rich grass with the isolation of one single tulip on the edge of a concrete expanse.  I want to examine what life looks like from the perspective of this wall.

And then I got to thinking, what else?  What about life from the branches of a tree, looking out from under its illuminated leaves?  Could that be interesting and beautiful?  And what about from a moving vehicle, like the bus I ride to work or the insides of subway tunnels?  What about the everyday scenes from my front porch, or the expression of a day as seen from one solitary park bench?

At about this time, Monotone was introduced.  Eureka!  Here’s the perfect forum for these new ideas!  And what other wonderful things could go with it?  Bits of poetry inspired by the scenes?  Snags of potentially related thought?  The delicately written features of whim and fancy?  I hope to explore the possibilities this weekend, possibly with a new blog if I get motivated.

A step above the Hamburgler.

If you are like me, you are a kid at heart – you love slightly cheesy plastic toys and food and getting messy and fantasy characters that say “Robble, robble”. But what if there comes a day when such flimsy joys are not enough? What happens when the “booberry” ghost joke is no longer funny? What happens when your childlike fun and wishes and desire seem childish, instead?

For myself, I turn to the comfort of adult words. There are still small joys that can be described, and therefore masked, as ‘adult’. Today I had actual work to do at my actual job. I ate at my desk. But despite that lack of time, it was a wonderful lunch for me. Corina ordered my food online through Foodler and had it delivered to our office without charging a delivery fee or other service costs. The speedy delivery meant more productivity for me (read: I’m too lazy to even order my own food) and the low price meant I can spend some a little later on something else (read: ice cream or a cheap plastic toy). And why not support an online service with a cute advertising campaign (read: They will send you stickers! FREE!!!) It’s perfect! Plus, by ordering online, I don’t have to talk on the phone. Ahh, heaven.

So while I will retain my love for the fantasy world of Ronald McDonald, now I have a more adult source of at least some foodstuffs. Go me.

Singing in the Brain

Ok – I totally stole the title for this post from MIT – but it was so ridiculously, ideally cheesy that I couldn’t resist.  While the article itself does present some interesting research about development, babble, and different areas of the brain, I must confess I was more amused by the title.  Everyone should take a look though, for the knowledge, and especially for the funny little songbird clips.

So.  Singing in the brain.  We’ve all done it – some wonderful, or completely annoying song or jingle will get stuck in our head, and there’s no getting it out.  You’ll be going through your day, and suddenly an old snatch of song or phrase (Bob Loblaw) will jump into your awareness.  How does this happen?  Just what are these little hiccoughs of memory and experience?  Why one song instead of another?  Why any song at all?

Though there is division about whether or not music (in particular, one type of music) aids memory, I am more interested in the particulars of spontaneous recall of a song.  Does the pattern of the rain remind me of some subtle rhythm?  Is it a particular phrase that reminds me of half-forgotten lyrics, springing full against my mind?  Does some sharp smell trigger an emotional or even visceral response that calls the past back to life?  Is it movement, the gentle touch of a hand, or the swift shifting between people in a crowd, that triggers the inner mind to sing?  Is it all of these, and something more besides?  Is it some subtle connection of inner vision, emotional and hormonal response of the body, and endless looping sparks of the memory that collide to yank a song from its memory space?

It’s an intriguing thought to me, the way all these triggers could interact.  I hope we don’t come up with a complete answer anytime soon.  It would take some joy out of the pondering, and take some delight out of the song.