nitrate divas

Via friend of the blog Nag on the Lake, we quite enjoyed this short montage from Fabrice Mathieu of pristine looping animations (see also) sourced from scenes of classic (past and more contemporary) movies arranged together for visual similarities, energies and synchronicities. If the name of the filmmaker strikes as familiar, we’ve referenced his work at least once in the past with a cleverly edited mash-up between directors Alfred Hitchcock and George Lucas. We were reminded of the image, not featured below and far less artfully timed, of the shot-for-shot comparison of The Phantom Carriage and The Shining or the post-credit parody of Deadpool in homage to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

7x7

television memories: John Hoare reflects on his birthday by tracking down what was on BBC at the moment he was born 

hijack: a Belarusian fighter jet diverts a commercial airliner in order to apprehend a dissident blogger  

greatest of all time: legendary gymnast Simone Biles has a rhinestone goat on her leotard  

please sir, three of your finest cocaines: a pharmaceutical advertisement from 1912  

europigeon songbird contest: the grand prix goes to Turdus (see previously) Philomelos 

 stardust: a collection of micrometeorites and a guide how to hunt for them  

omnibus programming: a revue of fifty obscure British comedy series from the 1980s

joanna, wife of chuza

Also identified by her Roman name Junia (Greek: Ἰωάνα, Ivana), the figure mentioned in the Gospel of Luke who accompanied Jesus and the disciples and having brought spices to the tomb is counted among the myrrhbearers is feted on this day. Associated with Chuza, the caretaker of the home of tetrarch Herod Antipas, Joanna was cured of “evil spirits and infirmities” and became a devout follower and shares her feast day with the folk saint (see also) Sarah, a figure venerated by the Romani as their patron, identified as servant of one of the Three Marys and accompanied her to the Camargue to escape persecution.

werewolves of jack london

As Super Punch informs, years prior to achieving literary success with epics such as The Grapes of Wrath and novellas including East of Eden and Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck wrote in 1930 a manuscript entitled Murder at Full Moon about a coastal California town beset by shapeshifting lycanthropes. Despite pressure from academics and the general public to publish the rejected full-length horror mystery, it remains in a university archive, unseen except by the executors of Steinbeck’s literary estate, who cite that the author tried to sell his work under a pseudonym and the fact the he never revisited the story even after his accomplishment telling the narrative of the Great Depression and migrant workers, as evidence that he wished not to see it in print and intend to respect those desires. Scholars urging its publication point out that Steinbeck did not burn this unpublished manuscript as he had done others he had disavowed.

home counties

Via Language Hat, we are directed towards a map of the historic counties of the nations of the United Kingdom with the toponymic nomenclatures (see also here and here) revealed, which despite being from a lending institution seems pretty accurate. Click through to enlarge. We especially enjoyed learning that Peeblesshire (Tweeddale, Siorrachd nam Pùballan) means the place with tents, Buteshire (Siorrachd Bhòid in the Firth of Clyde) means Island of Fire and that Cheshire is simply Roman Town.

the solway firth spaceman

On this day in 1964 whilst on an outing with his wife and daughter, firefighter and local historian Jim Templeton (*1920 – †2011) snapped a series of photographs of his family on Burgh Marsh—and were shocked to find this mysterious figure looming behind his young daughter once the film was developed. The film manufacturer certified the image as authentic and it is conjectured that the alien is Missus Templeton having wandered into the frame—her husband insists she was not in the shot but that particular camera’s view-finder gives a slightly narrow and constrained outlook on its subject—with her features washed-out against the bright sky. Widely circulated, Templeton gifted the image to public domain early on—hoping that someone could offer a reasonable explanation.  If the photograph had been taken a century earlier, our tendency for pareidolia would have doubtlessly detected a ghost. 

we demand a borda count

Jingoism and patriotism by-proxy upstaging message and entertainment value aside in voting (see previously) for the grand prix winner of the Eurovision song contest aside—Italy (see also) made a surprise showing for first place with a fine and enthusiastic homage to glam rock—the juxtaposing shots (and tribute) to the audience assembled for the party in Rotterdam were in keeping with original spirit of the spectacular meant to harmonise broadcast linkages across the continent. The pictured artist is the talented Norwegian performer called by his stage name TIX as an acknow-ledgement that he has overcome Tourette’s syndrome—which I misheard at first as duet syndrome.  Though at first seeming premature and irresponsible to allow such gatherings as we continue to beat back the pandemic, it was revealed that the volunteer revellers were taking part in a hopefully safe and scientifically sound experiment to see if and how large scale events could be held securely with no outbreaks and danger to public health.  Among our  favourites was Iceland’s entry Daði & Gagnamagnid—which was unable to play live in the hall after one band member tested positive for COVID—with Ten Years.

digital minoritization

In a valiant effort to save their native language from obsolescence by the dominance of English not just as a global lingua franca but also as the default of technology and media within and without their horizons, a middle-school class in Reykjavík paradoxically represents both the cause of Icelandic’s endangerment but also its potential salvation. As savvy and confident as the students are in global English (there are far more so called non-native speakers than those that live in the UK and former colonies that Indians and Icelanders have as much claim as Australians and Americans) they couldn’t conceive of an Iceland without Icelandic and are training, at the urging of their teacher, to recite, to incant, the Prose Edda, the epic of Snorri Sturluson to their laptops and tablets, in order that one day—eventually—the computer answers back, in Icelandic, and save the language from stafrænn dauði, digital death.