The closest I’ve come to “Paris underground” is visiting the chalk caves at Taittinger. Which isn’t quite the same thing.
One of these days, it would be lovely to get back to Paris. And perhaps finally explore the official catacombs. Sans bike, of course.
It’s pretentious at times. But I still have a fond memory of it. I don’t know whether this qualifies as an art film or not, but it’s definitely not your typical film.
The thing that I remember most fondly is that there were a few moments – a few select segments/scenes… that caught me off guard, and made me rethink how I listened to the world. One of those moments from the film was called “Truck Stop”:
The actual scam itself is pretty remarkable, and Rober does a great job explaining how the more trusting/gullible of us fall victim to it. The amounts of cash that are taken from people is truly staggering, and it’s pretty amazing that Rober has gotten involved to help authorities track down these terrible people.
It’s odd to think of Proenneke now, more than a year into the Coronavirus pandemic. Many of us have remained inside our homes, not able to go outside or be around people. And contrasting that with being wholly in the wilds of Alaska, more or less outside all the time – able to go absolutely anywhere at all, but there being no one else around.
There are some ingenoius portions of the machine. But the barbell segment 3/4 of the way through really caught me by complete surprise! So incredibly well done…
“New to multi-pitch climbing, she needs to come to terms with the concept of the jumps. She falls four times in just one pitch, but it’s exactly as route-setters Simon Margon and Katja Vidmar have planned, putting challenging jumps in early on the course to get the pair accustomed to them.”
The trick itself really got me, as I’ve seen the power of a nail gun up close. And even used one a few times. It’s a serious thing, and more than once I’ve wondered what it might feel like to accidentally have a nail go through my hand.
Happened across this video via MetaFilter, and it’s the kind of thing that reminds me why the Internet exists. It’s a one hour and thirteen minute long, wordless video that tours a commercial Korean cake factory.
I had this strange ritual when I was an undergraduate. Well, I had several, but the one I’m talking about was what I did early in the mornings, before I went to my job at the Monroe County Public Library.
One really amazing thing I’ve learned about: sinker pines. These are old logs, some over 100 years old, that fell into rivers while in transit to a mill. You’d think that these would be a rarity, but I’ve learned there are many, many rivers where many, many logs have fallen. Some spots, I heard, contain hundreds of logs.
I recently thought about a song I really liked, that I hadn’t heard in a long while: “On the Edge of Morning,” by The Wallings Jr.
I don’t often enjoy watching how-to videos, or watching people make things. There’s a whole host of this type of content, particularly on Instagram, and it tends to stress me out more than it inspires. I tend to find them sources of frustration and anxiety.
I’ve been returning to this bit from Dave Chapelle’s SNl monologue from last week. There’s a moment at the end that I thought was particularly spot-on, and worth sharing.
There isn’t much to this video. It’s just a snippet of the afternoon, standing on my front porch, as the leaves just seemed to pour down. A hint of fall, a signal of the cold to come.
A quiet, unassuming moment I felt worth capturing.
I don’t care that this is a commercial. Seeing this brought me no small amount of joy, and reminded me of the early Internet from maybe a decade ago. Just a lovely, lovely thing.