foxtongue: (the welsh got you)
365:2011.02.03 - fresh face
IT'S TIME FOR THE BIANNUAL SHOUT-OUT!

Please tell me your names, introduce yourself, post a picture! Everyone's invited - friends, strangers, the lurking anonymous - especially those who are otherwise silent. Like a good house party, it's always fascinating to see who turns up.

Tell me who you are, why you're here, how you found me, what inspires you. Even if I know you, introduce yourself to others and tell me what you've done lately. I want to see your faces, I want to read what you'd like everyone else to know. Tell us your stimulations, titillations; show us your pretty hidden treasures. Explain a piece of your world with something beautiful, make something new, or dig up the grave of an old favourite. Anecdotes and self-promotion are welcome, as are photos, job descriptions, awesome links, and whatever else.

Journals have been dying lately, I'd like to see who's chosen to stick around.
-::-

I want to know who's on the other end of my screen, what fun and fantastic people are out there, waiting to be met. You are artists and scientists, nihilists and dreamers, comic book illustrators, archeologists, hackers, retail managers, photographers, teachers, librarians, hair dressers, and submarine captains. You are novelists, derby girls, musicians, and accountants. Optimists, pragmatists, magicians and politicians, fencers, film addicts, home owners and homeless. You are lighting designers, poets, animators, and lawyers. You are glorious, fabulous, interesting creatures, rich in colour, thick with story - and I want to hear from you all.

For those new, my name's Jhayne. I'm an unemployed writer and sometimes photographer currently trapped in Vancouver, Canada. I live on the internet, but share an apartment with two cats, one roommate, and a bunny on the porch. I'm also an amateur taxidermist/cryptozoologist, occasionally play french horn and the saw, and edit other people's novels. I once started a global initiative to save a local turn-of-last-century theater and turn it into a new multimedia venue called Heart of the World. It fell down, went boom, and buried me in crippling debt, but oh well. Other people have recently managed to save it, at least, so I guess that's something.

Welcome to my journal, a mixture of wonder, pointlessness, isolation, and community where I talk about life, love, art, technology, and try not to hate the world.

Now it's your turn. Spill.
foxtongue: (feed me stories)
I just got the weirdest error message of my life. I just unplugged my computer and all of its components and moved my computer across the room to my new desk and attempted to turn it on after plugging everything back in. Instead of booting up, a pleasant woman's voice said SYSTEM FAILED DUE TO SYSTEM OVERCLOCKING. I replied, "buh?" and tried again, to the same result.

Please, internet, explain this to me! Talking computer? What the heck!

shout out

Jan. 29th, 2010 10:58 am
foxtongue: (see the sky)
Mamihlapinatapai (sometimes spelled mamihlapinatapei) is a word from the Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego, listed in The Guinness Book of World Records as the "most succinct word", and is considered one of the hardest words to translate. It describes "a look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start."

I have been falling out of touch with my various spaces, posting so infrequently that my on-line identity, my journal especially, has become almost permanently paused, a silent, waiting space, the inhaled breath before a sentence held in rather than flowing as a transitory action. It was not my intention, and I hope to rectify my neglect soon. If I do not write here, how will we stay in contact? I am notorious for rarely using a phone. Without input, without interaction, I do not exist, I am invisible, a voyeur only, and do not have access to our beautiful friendships.

The silence has reason, however. In this drawn out slumber, dreams have been fomenting just off screen. I have been collecting myself, preparing to shift from being unemployed to potentially self employed, spending my time researching my knowledge and resources, collecting materials, and planning how to mix facts and skill and memory until they all blend into a new, hopeful venture. Something, finally, my own. I will have more details soon, as almost every day I finish another step towards the great unveil. Until then, I hope I have your support, as I feel that will be vital as I smack into various snags, and that going out on my own as an artist isn't going to be something I look back on with regret.

In the meantime, I've been doing heavily discounted medical transcription for a Montreal journalist, typing for hours on stem cells, clinical trials, and how overseas clinics have been swindling desperate people with false claims of magic bullet cures. (It's been interesting, if occasionally deadly depressing. Science Is A Verb Now, and it is The Future and it is Good, but holy cats are there some unethical bastards who firmly wave that flag.)

That, chance, and hard work have miraculously come together to make this month's rent, but next month is still in the air. To that end, I'm also hoping to successfully apply for EI, something I've never done before. The process has been slowed for me due to how many employers it seems I've legally never had, but I'm trying to stay positive. If EI doesn't work out due to some paperwork mess, then I'm feeling alright about lining up for the dole, as apparently they'd be fairly likely to send me to school, which is something I've been toying with lately as I have a fair handful of skills, but nothing useful I'm certified for, (my only certification is in stop motion animation), or could do for long periods of time due to my car accident injuries, (cabinet carpentry anyone? furniture refinishing?).

So, with all of that in mind, IT'S TIME FOR THE BIANNUAL SHOUT-OUT!

-::-
Please tell me your names, introduce yourself, post a picture! Everyone's invited - friends, strangers, the lurking anonymous - especially those who are otherwise silent. Like a good house party, it's always fascinating to see who turns up.

Tell me why you're here, how you found me, what inspires you. Even if I know you, introduce yourself to others, and tell me what you've done lately. I want to see your faces, I want to read what you'd like everyone else to know. Tell us your stimulations, titillations; show us your pretty hidden treasures. Journals have been dying lately, I'd like to see who's chosen to stick around. Anecdotes are welcome, as are photos, job descriptions, awesome links, and whatever else.
-::-
foxtongue: (26th birthday)
There has been scheming afoot. Mad, mad, undeniably wonderful scheming. Ray, mostly, though with some other people, like James and Nicole and Tony. Scheming, I might add, to replace the sadly lost camera. (If you wish to be part of this crusade, I can put you in contact with him.)

To this end, Ray has been doing some rather serious research, and has presented me with a rather serious question, which I have seriously researched, but have been too overwhelmed to immediately answer in reply. (How could I, considering? Wow. Just, wow.)

So I turn to you, dear internet, to help sway me off the fence of panicked indecision before the nondenominational shopping glory of boxing day passes. In your so humble opinion....


[Poll #1503187]
foxtongue: (Default)
I've been out of town and away from the computer for over a week. My time was spent in the company of good people in an interesting place having lovely conversations and tasty, tasty food. In the meantime, other things happened.

Tell me what I've missed.
foxtongue: (welcome to the sideshow)
A composer friend recently took up the pen again after a very long hiatus and is looking for local musicians willing to perform his finished music. I can assure you he's fun, his work is top notch, and you won't be disappointed. Here's the basic info:

* It's 149 bars, running at just over 10 minutes in length;
* The instrumentation is for french horn, violin, viola, 'cello and baritone/low tenor vocalist (range: F-sharp below Middle C to G one and a half octaves above Middle C). A vocalist with training/experience for singing on the stage is preferred, but not absolutely necessary;
* The primary key is D major, with a few modulations to A major, E major, B-flat major, and B minor (not necessarily in that order). The time signature is 6/8.

If you happen to know of anybody who plays any of the above instruments, (including yourselves), and would be willing to give this music a try, please let me know and I'll put you in touch with him. Thanks in advance!
foxtongue: (the welsh got you)
Lung says,
"Do I have any friends in the Sydney area of Australia? I was asked that if I can't make an awards ceremony in Woolloomoolo, that I should have a representative there for Tuesday March 3, 2009 from 6-9PM. I'm sure it'll be fun and if you're interested in photography, it could be dandy!

Don't disappoint me....I have faith in you!"
foxtongue: (Default)
Twice a year I do a shout out, I ask that everyone speaks up, even if they otherwise stay silent. Like a good house party, it's always fascinating to see who turns up.

So, please, tell me your names, post your picture, introduce yourself, tell me why you're here, how you found me, and what inspires you.

I want to know who's on the other end of my screen, what fun and fantastic people are out there, waiting to be met.

Even if I know you, introduce yourself to others, and tell me what you've done lately.


Explain a piece of your world with something beautiful, make something new, or dig up the grave of an old favourite. Anecdotes are welcome, as are pictures, job descriptions, inspiring links, stimulations, titillations, and your pretty hidden treasures. The name of the game is networking, so share what you want everyone else to know.

You are artists and scientists, nihilists and dreamers, comic book illustrators, archeologists, hackers, retail managers, photographers, teachers, librarians, hair dressers, and submarine captains. You are novelists, derby girls, musicians, and accountants. Optimists, pragmatists, magicians and politicians, fencers, film addicts, home owners and homeless. You are lighting designers, poets, animators, and lawyers. You are glorious, fabulous, interesting creatures, rich in colour, thick with story - and I want to hear from you all.

For those new, my name's Jhayne. I'm a writer and photographer currently trapped in Vancouver, Canada. I live on the internet, work for a media company, and occasionally get paid to set off fireworks. I'm also an amateur taxidermist/cryptozoologist, play french horn and the saw, and edit other people's novels. I once started a global initiative to save a local turn-of-last-century theater and turn it into a new multimedia venue called Heart of the World. It fell down, went boom, but oh well. Other people have recently managed to save it, at least, so I guess that's something.

Welcome to my journal, a mixture of wonder, pointlessness, isolation, and community where I talk about life, love, art, technology, and try not to hate the world.

Now it's your turn. Spill.
foxtongue: (Default)
What are people doing to celebrate New Year's Eve this year? My soul has this dream where I find something spectacular and beautiful yet affordable, even though I know it will never happen. My version of affordable is a small, slight creature that easily falls over in wind. I just spent my last five dollars on fifty cent cup-a-noodle soup so I wouldn't starve too severely at work.

At best, I think I might get to escape away to Seattle, to watch their tower explode in fireworks, though I have no idea what else I might do. At worst I stay home and friends from all over the world try to call me at midnight to tell me what a fantastic time they are having, only to find that the lines are too busy and they can't get through.
foxtongue: (rawr)
What's your Hallowe'en plans this year?

A lot of people here are talking about hitting up SinCity and Sanctuary, but when it comes to those two nights, I'm just done. Isn't there anything else going on? I want dancing and fire breathing and circus acts and acrobats and fun, you know? Not mostly naked people in scanty costumes molesting each other in a drowning sea of goth. It's okay sometimes, but not every year.

David and I are thinking we might pop down to Seattle to go to Angel's party, (which I'd really like to attend), but it's only one night, so unless we find something else too, we'd be stranded for the rest of the weekend. (Everyone else I know down there is going to Freaknight, the Crystal Method/Moby/Paul Van Dyk all nighter). Plus, of course, with David unemployed, we're especially, painfully broke. We've got fifty dollars to live on until my next pay-cheque, and since I'm covering next month's rent solo, it's lucky we like lentils.
foxtongue: (ferret)
Can you help? Silva's departure date is right around the corner. An essential part of moving, however, involves loading a truck and her and her wife, though they are fierce, brightly shining people, are still two little older ladies, and they can't do it alone.
"We're loading a truck with heavy boxes and a very few pieces of furniture on Thursday morning at 10 am. If this kind of activity appeals to you, and if you want to help, and if you *can* help FOR SURE,and can be here from 9:30ish until noon please let me know. I have to run off to a dentist appointment at 12:30 so it HAS TO be finished by then. There will be non-alcoholic cold beverages and cookies and much gratitude."
I'm going to try and take the morning off to help, but I might not be able to and it's very important that people show up.
foxtongue: (bright spring)
“It’s been believed in the past that the camera steals souls. I once thought this preposterous. Now I think it’s self-evident.

This is why we photograph. The fear of oblivion, ours and our worlds. We will inevitably die, but our photographs, if they’re honest, if they show our lives with clarity, unafraid, our photographs will preserve us. Our souls at least. Who we were inside, and the things we saw. Our images? Particles of light that have been traveling forever bounced off our subjects, were focused through our lens into the tender tissue of our eye, and our brain, and our film. Now, those very same shapes, made by those very same particles, the same ones we saw, others can see. Forever, they can see that fraction of a second we saw.

That’s immortality.” -Clayton Cubitt, 2005


Scientists discover exotic quantum state of matter.

May is quickly waltzing into being, every day one delicate step closer, bringing with it spring and, with that, my birthday. Fragile, the social ties holding me to it. Already people have started asking about a party, as I worked through my birthday last year. So once again, and this year I mean it, does anyone know of an appropriate venue for my birthday party at the end of May? My apartment is far too small to hold the 100+ people who will wander through during the course of the day and outdoors, really, is never an option I care for. It's impossible to foster the security of the microcosm we call a kitchen party in a park.

What I'm hoping for is the kind loan of a house with a yard for a BBQ that won't mind if we go over-night, preferably with crash space, that won't mind if we cook breakfast in the morning. Last time our resident Stephen was kind enough to lend us his place, but it has since been partitioned and rented out to people. (I think Frankie's girlfriend's sister or something now lives in the basement, like, just to go to show how small this city really can be.) It was perfect, big, two yards, just off the Drive.

It came out unscathed, too, minus a large pile of dishes in the kitchen we cleaned up the next day, two snapped guitar strings, and, I think, one broken glass. The people I know tend to be remarkably tidy when it comes to parties, we're not hard-drinking bar-stars with anything to prove, more the sort of argue films and physics over spanish guitar on the porch. Profit: fifteen dollars in returnable bottles, a set of car and house keys no one ever claimed, (I still have them, people, identify them and they're yours), and some wonderfully embarrassing arm-wrestling photos.

So, please, if this sounds remotely feasible, drop me a line if you've got a place or know of one. Let's see if we can't work something out.


edit: so far we've got the foxy house. anyone else?
foxtongue: (beseech)
Has anyone else been having troubles uploading pictures to Flickr?
foxtongue: (have to be kidding)
Dear lazyweb, I am in need of some internet/codemonkey skills.

I am in the midst of designing something I do not know enough to build. Would anyone like to help out in exchange for some writing or photography?

I'm toying with a shop, a mapped gallery, and some other things which would be easy for someone who knows how but night impossible to for me figure out without wasteful hours of limping code.

spread 'em

Nov. 13th, 2007 12:01 pm
foxtongue: (dial tone)
Katie made an interesting request of her flist today that I'm going to ask all of you, How Many Of You Have Flickr?

"If you do, I want to know! Post a link to your stream with your latest greatest photo."
foxtongue: (see the sky)
Does anyone have a house I could borrow to host my birthday party? It is less that we party hard and more that there are far too many of us for any wee apartment.
foxtongue: (have to be kidding)
what barry says

My speakers finally gave up the ghost around 6 this morning. I've been making do with the public joke that is the radio, which is far worse than I remember, but I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. I'm sincerely not accustomed to advertising. The surface of my brain is already beginning to feel scraped raw.

In the interest of preventing an international incident, does anyone have computer speakers they wouldn't mind being rid of?


edit: the radio has just spewed out a hip-hop cover/sample/abomination of Supertramp. These are not the actual words, (click at your own peril), but an approximation of the effect they carry: "Take a look at my girlfriend, she's the only one I've got, dah dah dah MY BITCHES SHE GOT MAH BLING"

RESCUE! RESCUE!
foxtongue: (hot in here)
Ink is handicapped, in a way, because you can blow up a man with gunpowder in half a second, while it may take twenty years to blow him up with a book. But the gunpowder destroys itself along with its victim, while a book can keep on exploding for centuries. -Christopher Morley, writer (1890-1957)

I've submitted a story to Life For Change, an on-line writing contest. It's $100 for the author of the story with the most votes. It's a newer site, only active since January, but there's been two winners so far, and I hope to at least be short-listed for the next draw. Course, I need people to vote for me, that's how all these work. This means you.

Thank you to Adam, Andrew, Angus, Avi, Brian, Bruce, Christopher, Chris, Christaline, David, Dominique, Duncan, Ed, Erin, Gary, Eva, Gord, Heath, Jacques, Jer, Jordan, Keith, Kyle, Liam, Lung, Lee, Luciano, Navi, Nick, Patti, Paula, Michael, Mike, Mike, Sam, Sara, Sarah, Stephen, Steven, Simon, Travis, Robin, Ray, Reine, Ross, Ryan, Roger, Wayne, Vicki, and the other five to ten people who's names have momentarily escaped me.

Next time you're all signing a damned guest book.

I've made a Flickr Pool for party pictures, fashionably late birthday. Pass it on.

Roger, Jacques brother, was talking with someone about a car for sale. If this is you or you know who it is, could you get in touch with me? Roger was an older fellow with the short sandy hair who came later, the one with the amazingly inconvenient talent of avoiding being in any of the photos I currently have at my disposal.

And again, whoever forgot their keys, if they'd like them back, they should get in touch with me. (Otherwise, I'm just going to start using their nifty light-up key-chain). My Outlook thrashed itself this past weekend, I can't get at my invitation list to ask around properly, so I'm relying purely on word-of-mouth. The more of you send out feelers and harassment, the less likely someone will be panicking sometime this week.

Andrew, Sarah, Ethan, and Alicia, you still have books here that you put dibs on.

July 10th was Nikola Tesla's 150th anniversary. Tesla, the archetypical mad scientist, invented radio and alternating current, set the world record for man-made lightning, and was nemesis to none other than Edison himself, who was entirely a prick to him his entire career. After an intensely accomplished life, he died destitute and alone in a pigeon filled suite in New Yorker Hotel.

Part of the various celebrations, (2006 has been declared The Year of Nikola Tesla by Croatia, Serbia, and UNESCO. Croatia already has him on their money), is going to be a Christopher Nolan film based on The Prestige, a captivating novel by Christopher Priest, starring David Bowie as Tesla. In 1980, Orson Welles produced a Yugoslavian film named Tajna Nikole Tesle, (The Secret of Nikola Tesla), in which Welles himself played the part of Tesla's patron, J.P. Morgan, but I don't think it's going to match up to this. I had such a fierce secret crush on Tesla when I was growing up that it was silly, so this looks like it's going to be entirely too sexy for words. Seriously, casting David Bowie as Nikola Tesla, you can't actually craft a hotter idea than that. Not unless you somehow throw Phillip K. Dick in there as played by another David Bowie. Here's a link to the trailor.
foxtongue: (feed me stories)
Every time I do a mail-out, I get to find out exactly how painfully out-of-date my address book really is. My in-box immdiately gets multiple replies from from Mailer Daemons and Do Not Reply's. In order to recitfy this sorry state of affairs, I've put together this little poll so that !!you too!! may be invited to my Spectacular Happenings (TM).

[Poll #766360]
foxtongue: (snow)
Does anyone know of a professional alteration shop that won't break the bank?

I have a line on a fairly simple gown that I would like to be a bit more complex. Mostly the skirt ruched up with tulle put underneath as the green one is on this page, or with something on top, as the red one is, yes, flowery bits and all, if that's easier. It's about time I admitted myself a flowery bit of girlishness rather than have certain aspects of femininity drift blankly past me like a painted-eye shopping mall crowd after a fire.

  • the feeling of some love.

    Last Sunday I went to Seattle, and after a pleasant ride down with Brian's friend, Jane, long silver hair, the pretty violet mannerisms of a relaxed bird, I found myself in the grand company of Eliza, who walks like she really means it and takes two hours to decide what to wear. It felt somehow like I was speaking with an echo of something I used to believe in. Three days of barely sleeping, being thrown into a car with a familiar stranger, a city I'm not familiar with. I felt like a game of jeweled cards was playing inside my head where I didn't know the rules. I appreciated her friends, they were relaxing, a black clothes contingent to take my hand and keep me standing through my weary run. more pictures soon.

  • the feeling of my workplace.

    People have been repeatedly sending Robert Newman's History of Oil to me the last few days. I am remiss in not posting it immediately, I'm sorry. (I forget more people read here). It's a shining and clever monologue that discusses the critical political issues of war and energy use in an exceedingly accessible manner. He gracefully binds imperative information in laughter and ties it all up with a fun sense of charming levity, which may sounds silly, but it really needs to be seen to be properly understood. Watch it as soon as possible!

    Quote of the Day: Andrew: "I think it says bad things about me when I try and go to the site http://super.cali.fragi.listic.expi.ali.do.cio.us/ and get disappointed that no one has made it yet."
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