Tag: zombie apocalypse

  • a bowl of apples

    Cafe I used to work in, in Berlin, had sometimes a dozen Apple computers (mine included) lined apple to apple, cheek to cheek across the counters. People forget ‘branded’ is what they used to do to the rumps of cattle. To show they are *owned by somebody*. We think it means, “Now I Own This.”

    ‘Maverick’, incidentally, comes from the name of the one guy who refused to burn brands into his cattle. So when a steer turned up who had no sign of ownership, they knew: one’s a maverick. But for all those who so proudly claim the term: still means you are somebody’s property. It’s just that the chains are invisible.

    ny2 appleheart

  • hero, shero

    hero, shero

    Are ignorance & arrogance the same thing? I think they are. My friend and I argue. He says, ignorance goes inside, arrogance goes towards the outside. Yes I say; but as you destroy your ignorance, as you realize we are all connected and part of one another, it becomes impossible to be arrogant. (Arrogantly I am thinking: I’m not arrogant!) Well but then, he says, you become cynical. And then… you become sarcastic. I’m not cynical, I remind him (arrogantly). No, he says: you’re not. And you’re not ignorant.

    I am preening. But! he suddenly realises: you are far more arrogant than me! Yes, I say proudly, it’s true, I am. I’m a horrible snob. You have Adelbrain, he says, synthesising a new German-English compound: aristocrat’s brain. I have no money and come from a family of farmers but I realise: this is true. Leaving the room he says over his shoulder: No. You’re not arrogant. You’re just a queen. Perching four splayed fingers over his breastbone like an insect walking on an upright wall of water he explains: Birthright.

    Queen Latifah, I have heard, calls herself so because she believes every woman is a queen. Similarly I began in my 20s signing my name Cathoel Shero, having made up the word ‘shero’ to serve as an equal opposite to ‘hero.’ Here’s a cartoon I made for it in 1999. In my mind I was imagining every woman signing herself Sarah, Blessed, Dewi, Dagmar Shero: a race of super women. I thought by recognising the dignity in ourselves and calling it out, being unafraid of our strength, we could call up men all around us to be heroes. Kings and princes. Titles would be common as muck. We’d all be happy as pigs in straw castles. My theory fell to pieces when I discovered Oprah Winfrey had invented the same word around the same time and instead of feeling pleased ~ the light is rising! ~ I was annoyed. This self-centring response felt not very sheroic; not very princely. But I like to be queen of my own inner world and I like that other people are king and queen of theirs.

    hero shero

  • the splay

    the splay

    People in coffee shops who wipe down their table with the paper napkin and push their splayed chairs back in. People at bus stops who engross three seats for their handbags and parcels when elderly women are standing. I’d rather give a shit than be one.

    H2O HoL copenhagen ladybird

  • no news is good

    no news is good

    Watching television news for the first time in several years. Things have changed. The screen (huge!) is split into seven sections with different background footage, text, or video showing in each of them. A continuously changing crawl line along the bottom distracts attention from the main ‘story’, with unrelated headlines. There’s even a graphic indicating the state of the stock exchange at allegedly this very moment. (My investments! My fleet of investment advisors! My inflamed self-importance!) The ‘story’ is about the arrest of three more suspects in the Boston bombing and the reporter on the scene seems to be speculating & conducting her own investigation. Her storytelling is looping and diffuse. But it’s hard to notice that because of the intrusive text flashes & gripping minute-by-minute footage of a black van being backed very slowly, over and over again, into the garage of a large building. What the hell is going on? This show seems intended to make the viewer feel like they are the centre of operations in some big detective show. In fact the information given, before boredom and frustration drove me from the room, is minimal and almost meaningless. As though it were a gossip magazine the ‘news’ describes the appearance and apparent mood of the suspects. They talk to ‘neighbours’ who say I’m shocked, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here, etc. I have never looked to television news as a font of insight and wisdom but still: the level of stupidness seems to have risen markedly.

    If you have a TV and if you feel that watching this stuff is helping you ‘keep up to date’: maybe think again.

    H2O HoL turkish erode floor

  • symmetrical heaven-trees

    symmetrical heaven-trees

    Supermarkets turn me into a raging misanthrope. I am never more judgmental than when dodging slow-moving families in the aisles. Artificial food substitutes reach out like glistening fruit arranged on extremely symmetrical trees. There’s the couple towing two listless children who have not one fresh product in their cart. There’s the urge to tap them on the shoulder and plead, You’re not feeding that stuff to your kids, are you? There’s the inclination (all too often indulged) to bail up ladies choosing toilet paper and ask, Have you ever thought of trying the recycled? Because, you know… this stuff is made from trees. (Last time I tried this, she listened politely before saying, ah, but it’s so scratchy, I like soft. “I’m sensitive.” I gave her a smile that was more like a snarl: “Maybe it’s softer. After all, it’s been Pulped Twice.”) There’s the corrosive stench of ‘cleaning’ products pervading the laundry aisle. And through it all there’s the dreary easy-listening music that’s somehow so painful to hear. Once you start hearing the lyrics, it’s a whole world of confusion and grief. If you DO get caught between the moon and New York City, where are you exactly? Are you on some extremely high-flying jumbo jet? Or have you died, and is this what purgatory smells like? And do they really play my favourite song in heaven all night long? Or does it just feel that way.

    H2O HoL lakeside trash bin

  • overheard

    overheard

    Girl on the tram, to her friend: “It made me wanna throw up. And not in a good way.”