Dreampepper

Gil Scott-Heron, poet and musician, most famous for The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, died on Friday afternoon in New York City, at 62.

It is with deep regret that I post this news. After a massive search, Andrew Koenig has been found dead of suicide in Stanley park. He was fun, attractive, and charming, and though socially we only touched lightly in passing, I adored him, and he was family to many of mine. He will be missed.

David's rabbit Emmerson abruptly died today.

Upon arriving home, I also discovered that both my cats are suddenly sick. Tanaquil is not keeping food down and Tanith has diarrhea. I'm concerned there is a particular illness affecting all of them, but don't know anything about cross-species disease.

Does anyone here have any information?

I cannot afford to take them to the vet.

PingMag, the Tokyo based magazine about "Design and Making Things", is shutting down
I've been an almost daily reader of PingMag for at least two years, thrilled to have found a site so consistently fascinating. I'm more than sad they had to throw in the towel, I'm actually somewhat shocked. From their site:

Dear PingMag readers,

It’s the last day of 2008, and we have a sad announcement to make.

From today, PingMag will be taking an extended hiatus, and will not be updated for the foreseeable future.

PingMag has been running for 3 and a half years now, and over that time literally millions of you, from every single corner of the planet, have visited, read our articles, left comments, linked to us on your blogs, sent us letters of support - some of you have even flown to Tokyo to join us!

We are eternally grateful for your fantastic support over the years.

It is only because of you all that we have managed to keep PingMag going this long, and with every article - and there have been around 1000 of them! - we have made new friends, and found new, exciting people and places here in Japan and all over the world.

Thank you! Thank you for all your love and good will. We can only offer our sincerest apologies that we are unable to continue returning your fantastic generosity.

As well as you our readers, so many of you have actually contributed to PingMag, in so many different ways. It isn’t possible for me to thank everyone personally here, but many of you are credited in the about page, and anyone who we’ve missed, our apologies! Every contribution, however big or small, has made PingMag what it is, and you will always be a precious member of the team.

The world is facing tough times right now, and many of you may have uncertain months ahead. Wherever you are and whatever your circumstances, we wish you all the very best of luck, and look forward to being able to meet again, we hope, at some point in the future.

All the very best wishes from Tokyo,

Tom, and the entire PingMag team.

My f-list just did a fun little thing. All in row, skonen_blades sends me an e-mail with the news, Keith sends a messenger note, warren_ellis sends out a related Bad Signal, then wyldkyss, quipper, smogo, robotangel, flemco, useless_facts, cmpriest, benpeek, city_of_dis, rollick, budgie_uk, and ladyjaida all post to varying degrees that an actor named Heath Ledger has just been found dead. Then calamityjon, a voice of reason, comes to the fore, "Wow, CNN is reporting that Allan Melvin died. Crazy."

(I love calamityjon).

So, fess up people, who the heck was Heath Ledger that he merits this blogging explosion? Isn't this sort of thing fairly low down the list of important information? I've never even heard of him.

Me, I would think Man Found Overdosed In Mary Kate Olson's Apartment would be the big head-line.

For those who have been aware:

I received news this grey afternoon from Alvin, currently in Bangkok, confirming our worst fears.

Larisa Fayad, a friend and colleague, unfortunately did not survive the fatal plane crash last Sunday in Phuket, Thailand.

My evening plans dissolved under the frayed-temper weight of a mid-run rehearsal that went late, went later, then turned into an improbable, cramped-in-the-back-of-the-car expedition to Burnaby to The Arts Institute, until finally, tired, worn, at four in the morning, I was dropped off home.

Part of me knows why I let these things happen, but the rest of me is speculating on a possible homicidal spree. Something you can all hear about on the radio. Trading in famous for infamous with the merest arterial spray.

Today was the anniversary of the World Trade disaster, the strength of misplaced faith moving towers instead of mountains, but until I signed on-line, I heard not a word on it. Even then, coverage was sparse. In six years, it's had time to fade, but also to become one of Those Questions, "What do you do?" "Where are you from?" "Where were you on September 11th?" The immediacy has merely shifted focus, become diluted through our culture like waxy ink through blood. A slow acting poison, changing our perspectives.

I was in bed, until I wasn't anymore. Cory and Jon in the den, glued to the TV. We all have our stories, sitting in cars, unlucky at airports, the entire world spinning still, like a record slowing down, just in time for the second plane to crash in. Fire, collapse. Do you remember the jumpers? Echoes. Of anywhere, I wanted to be there.

Before, we had the Berlin Wall. A glorious thing, people dancing on the ruins, encapsulating history in joy. Now we sit around the dinner table, frown, and recite our whereabouts, how we felt, what we think should be done. A very different "Before". Politics, everywhere. Always America. The circus in flames.

Duncan and Scott, a Scots-Canadian and an American, have posts I think you should read. I am too lonely, too tired, too emptied by my day to properly have my own words.

I am sorry, world, that we have failed you so. It would have been better to remember the wall.