Parkour

I discovered a new concept today. Sometimes though, whether you have the concept in mind or not, your body just starts moving like this on its own...

From the site:

"Parkour is the art of moving through your environment using only your body and the surroundings to propel yourself. It can include running, jumping, climbing, even crawling, if that is the most suitable movement for the situation. Parkour could be grasped by imagining a race through an obstacle course, the goal is to overcome obstacles quickly and efficiently, without using extraneous movement. Apply this line of thought to an urban environment, or even a run through the woods, and you're on the right path. Because individual movements could vary so greatly by the situation, it is better to consider Parkour as defined by the intention instead of the movements themselves. If the intention is to get somewhere using the most effective movements with the least loss of momentum, then it could probably be considered Parkour."

Gorgeous woman in green

Beautiful.

Baby whale creature: end of the line

This is probably going to be the last update on this story. This part struck me as very sweet:

"One effort came from Aboriginal whale whisperer Bunna Lawrie, who visited the calf Thursday afternoon. Adorned with feathers on his head and white paint markings on his face, Lawrie reached into the water to stroke Colin [baby whale creature] while singing a humming, tongue-rolling tune.

But after a few minutes the whale swam away to nuzzle a nearby yacht."

I suppose part of what drives us crazy about this story is the relentless inevitability of it, the whole mistaken mother thing is just intensely sad, and the human quality of the persistence in a pointless strategy, despite the futile outcome, because there is just no better option available. We understand that kind of activity, that kind of impulse, all too well.

So it seems that baby whale creature was attacked by sharks before his abandoning, and that his mother probably reckoned his chances as being slim for survival. Life can be so strong sometimes, so determined to be.

Eye witness speaks about baby whale creature

Ok, I am glued to the baby whale story, like, um, a baby whale to a yacht. So there is no great rescue mission underway, all the people in the viscinity can do is wait. The only thing that will save baby whale creature is if another lactating whale mother is found in the area. Here's what a yachtsman from one of the boats said today:

"It sounded like a bit of a vacuum cleaner on the bottom of the boat. I finally got up and here's this whale suckling the side of the boat," Peter Lewis told Fairfax Radio Network. "It was a very, very sad sight. It did it for about an hour, going from side to side on the boat and at times blowing air under the boat, and it just seemed to give a sigh out at one stage as if, you know, 'this isn't working.'"

(from yahoo)

So why can't they just make a gigantic rubber whalemama-like nipple and whack it on the side of one of the yachts and get this kid weaned? Of course they've had that idea. And dismissed it:

"They suckle for 11 or 12 months, so it's a long time — we'd just agree it'd be very difficult," the environmental spokeswoman said. "We think it really needs to find its mother or foster mother and those are really the only chances."

A small baby whale creature really would need to learn a lot of stuff from his mum, she is not just a source of nutrition, but she would also teach him how to be a whale. Maybe she is swimming the ocean desperately trying to find him, or maybe she just had an instinct in her to be free. Whatever way, from whatever human perspective we can look at this, this story is heartbreaking. There will, most likely, be tears at the end of it. I will be very happy to post about something else.

Who is baby whale creature's mother?

So I'm inspired by the baby whale creature topic. Beware though, this post is not for the faint of heart.

It's interesting to me that when we are faced with something like this in the 'natural' world, ie. amongst other animals, that we tut tut, and say with sad wisdom, "yes, sometimes in the wild mothers abandon their young. We don't understand why but they do." And it's considered one of those difficult-to-deal-with anomalies of nature, just what happens 'in the wild'. Nobody thinks of making laws where we go after other species mothers who have abandoned their young, to prosecute them (tough love) or offer therapy (no one will think badly of you, just own up) or reconcile parent and child in a supportive community framework. I suppose it's a question of us governing our own species' behaviour in this respect, and having some sense that wild natural behaviour is far out of our ability to control.

But how are humans so different to animals in these biological ways of responding? Yes, humans are capable of art and culture and ideas and altruism and all kinds of refined applications of the human heart and mind. But in our animal, biological ways, how different are we from any other animal? When it comes to desiring sex, taking care of our young, how we respond when we're hungry, how we respond when we're physically threatened, we have animal responses for these things, and I wonder how much those core animal responses have really needed to evolve over the lifetime of the species? Animal responses, for what they are, are pretty effective mechanisms.

But we treat our own species differently, of course. We have rules, social and civic, legal and personal ones. We have standards and codes of behaviour, we approve of certain behaviours and disapprove of others, and there is generally quite a lot of individual variation in open cultures as to what is approved of and what disapproved. And generally, if you really want to get people tut tutting, just tell 'em a story about a mother who has abandoned her child, or has gotten an abortion, or even someone who has been unable to take care of her children, with the result that her children are either taken into care or grow up feral, neglected. That's one way to flush out people's disapproval. Usually, the most important consideration to us is actually the child's safety, which no sane person would argue with, but we tend to pathologise the mother.

But what about someone who has an abortion because she discovers that the child she is carrying has got some serious genetic problem? Is this also a natural response?

It seems so arbitrary when it happens in nature, but it does happen, and each mother is different in her response. Cats, dogs, tigers and lions all often reject a 'runt' and favour the strong ones. When the runt dies, she eats it and thereby gets nutrition for feeding the others. Motherhood in animals is remarkably bullshit free. I'm not recommending that we humans start eating our dead babies, or ignore the smallest because he or she is weak, my point is that in this animal zone of our own behaviour, we apply standards that we often just can't follow, because it is not how our instincts operate.

Why do we treat human females who abandon their young as having a problem to overcome, when it is evident everywhere else in nature, not that this is the norm by any means, but that it is, in fact, another aspect of nature?

So what about baby whale creature's mother, swimming out to sea? Do we think she's heartless? The baby whale story is terrible. Baby whale creature will probably die. It is awful and I will be cheering if they manage to find a way to save the baby whale creature.

But baby whale creature's mother has swum freely off into the ocean. Someone will see her again some day, in another yacht, blowing jets of air up into the sky, taking HD camcorder footage with glee and oohs and aahs, wondering at the beauty of the natural world, or maybe you'll happen upon some of that footage of whales tossing a baby seal between them, killing it with shock, playing with it before eating it, and flinch at the cruelty before moving swiftly along to another cute kitten video. It is hard, what happens sometimes in nature. And we are more a part of nature than we usually care to understand.

The shrubs are coming! (to Beijing)

So there's talk that beijing is to be converted into a jungle after the Olympics. A visionary plan for a modern city? Or a cynical attempt at some positive pr to counteract the relentless dodgy stories emerging from China during this Olympics? Hmm...

Update on baby whale creature story

There is video. It will rip your heart out.

This is a new video, it's better than the Guardian link, but you'll need to turn the sound OFF.

The baby whale who mistook a yacht for its mother

Ok, not the most cheery start to the day, but that's how it is sometimes. I just read this.
So sometimes, in the wild, a mother abandons her baby, who still seeks its mother, and decides that a yacht will be its mother instead. Hm. I'm imagining how the people on the yacht are feeling. They are most likely very rich, and on their holidays. Faced with a doomed baby creature of tremendous natural beauty, who is looking for its mum and thinks their yacht is her. They cannot help said doomed baby creature. There is nothing they can do, except watch, or leave their yacht, effectively re-abandoning the baby creature. Other rich holidaying people in the viscinity are encountering the same possibility, as doomed baby creature gets hungrier and circles them, trying to find its real mum.

I imagine lots of long distance emergency video conferencing with therapists; knuckles-full of diazepam and prozac getting knocked back; and a general panic as the waves of complicated emotion surge as the baby whale creature circles, crying out for its mum, wondering why its mum won't come and nuzzle baby reassuringly the way she always has, wondering why mum won't feed him the way she always has.

Need a lot of drugs to numb that. Need a lot of explanations to stop you from listening to the song of the baby whale creature surging within, making its last flailing dance of life inside you.

Fluff

This is probably only happening because I'm blogging late, but anyway... Not as good as Ernest Borgnine, but not too bad for twenty past midnight. What? You didn't see Ernest Borgnine? Hmm.

Woke up this morning in the cold water...

The New York Times gets hip to Donegal surfing.

Hm, you might need to have a log-in to read this article... but it's free to join the New York Times Effect on Man.

Bock's picks

Hey, just noticed that Lucy Takes Off is featured today on Bock The Robber as one of his picks of the day... nice.

For as long as it lasts...

It's a pretty cool resource. I'm currently reading articles from the National Geographic... yeah, probably with some trash to follow. This site's got em all, for now. Basically it's a joint where the members of the site - free to join, free to upload - can scan magazines and articles and people can read them online, for free (I'm reading them and I haven't joined). Hm, wonder who's gonna be irked by that?

Dublin city: detail

Dublin, rain, the street

I had a Dublin moment tonight, as I left the Luas station in Ranelagh. "How're you doing", asks the tall man to my left, quietly, on the street. "Grand, thanks", I reply. And we chat a bit, a few more sentences to the corner, where we part ways. "Lovely talking with you", he says. It is genuine and friendly. So nice, especially after a walk through the very weird parade that is Dublin's nightscape.

On Grafton street: a very old drunk man, stumbling down the street, a fresh gash across his forehead, yielding blood. At the top of Grafton street, several large bouncer-looking working class Dublin men held large yellow placards emblazoned with the legend, JOHN 3:7. Getting off the Luas, presumably to join them, was a very pious looking pale faced type, definitely more the 19 year old pioneer pin-wearing stereotype of fifties Ireland, but with a yellow tshirt on over his coat, again declaring, JOHN 3:7. This is a verse from the opium eater's gospel, the young one, and it has been showing up (some sort of cult seems to be emerging, on the face of tonight's attendance) for some years now just behind the goal posts at rugby and Gaelic matches, and, I suppose, has taken on a life of its own. My guess is that it preaches something about abstinence, maybe the guys holding the placards were fresh from some 12 step programme. I don't know.

I won't bother getting started with Temple Bar. As Friendly Ranelagh Man said, sure there's no one Irish in there at all. Truly. And for good reason.

I often encounter these random moments of friendliness, actually. They always come as a surprise. It's amazing how a momentary meeting with a stranger - nothing intense, nothing fancy, no big ideas - can feel very intimate. Some intimate part of you, touched. And then you say goodbye, and walk down the street. I remember a conversation I overheard on the bus from Girona airport to Barcelona, a month or so ago, between a girl from Texas and a softly spoken Spanish man. I sat behind them, it was a rainy night, they were speaking English, I am curious, I listened. It was largely chitchat, but you know, chitchat is some of the most interesting chat there is, really, especially when other people are having it. She was intelligent, independent, a 'good' girl, conditioned to be guarded with strange men. He seemed such a lovely sort. I sort of hoped they would exchange email addresses or facebook contacts or something. Afterwards, I saw her, on the train to Catalunya. She looked like she was thinking hard. Like the part of her that was forgotten from the thought, was suddenly sad.

Do you know the feeling of sudden sadness? The one that comes like a whirlwind, and tears through your body? The active sadness, the living sadness, that leaves space after it has gone, energy and joy the next day? Do you know that feeling, or anything like it?

So, according to my late night chat tonight, news from Roscommon is that apparently no one even says how-are-you-doing there anymore. What a pity. I'm glad they do in Dublin.

Pocket monster

This guy's physical and vocal resemblance to an android is, truly, remarkable. But his product seems to rock.


So I saw this yesterday.

I've had a three year old old-for-2005-got-it-cheap mobile phone that I have felt no need to upgrade because it's basic and simple, and doesn't try to pretend to look like a computer, like the current crop of mobile phones do, without doing much, if anything, else. They're trying to chase iPhone's arse, but they've just gotten wider and bigger and have more flashing colours and mimic the physical appearance of the iPhone, but basically all they do is transmit voice and short text information.

So far, my reluctance to hook up to an iPhone subscription is twofold: I am living rootlessly at the moment, and currently you have to subscribe for some lengthy period of time to a particular server, and this just doesn't rhyme with the way I live. And secondly, it's not cheap. I hardly ever use my mobile phone. But I use the internet constantly, and I spend hours every day on my laptop. And that's what the iPhone is talking about.

Ultimately, the iPhone is a small device, which is what is great about it, and also its limitation. I can't edit movies on an iPhone, I can't record songs, it's not really feasible to pore over a tiny screen to write anything for much time, without getting a headache. So it is what it is, and its scope as a work tool is limited. But in terms of a constant internet companion, now THAT is something I can understand. Maybe it'll mean I'll get out more!

Whether I get an iPhone, however, despite my affection for the Mac OS, is moot. Check this out: a Linux/Google version of iPhone is on the way by the end of this year, the Android platform, which, if you look at the video at the top of this post, seems to be really drawing together the various google applications into an open platform pocket internet device. I'm excited to find out how they release it.

The interesting thing about all this generation of device, of which the iPhone is clearly the first to emerge, is that they really make redundant the telecommunications industry standard of paying in terms of 'minutes' spent engaging with the network. There has been a revolution in my own life this past year since I got this laptop (a year old tomorrow!) and iPod and basically the software therein: the iLife suite, the iWork suite, and New York city's freely available wifi. Not every city has wifi running on tap in the same way, partly to do with the sheer density of New York and the way it runs, partly to do with the fact that networks in Ireland, at least, and Spain and Denmark I think also, embed a password as a requisite part of signing onto their broadband package. I have only found an open individual subscription in Ireland once: people seem to guard their wifi access as if throngs of laptop owners would be likely to flock to their doorstep and hang around in the rain, nudging ever closer to the wall, eagerly googling.

It is only when a city's culture understands the need for the internet to be like running water, freely available, run on individual subscriptions, but with an open sensibility so that if you find yourself out of range of your own house-based connection, then you'll always find a friendly port to give you access. It's an alternative community idea, it's about building internet infrastructure, understanding that people live mobile lives, and some live more mobile lives than others.

Less than a year ago, I found Dublin to be a very inhospitable place to wifi access. Everything was on a charge-basis, none of the hotels had open access, and cafes offered 'free' wifi in the form of a password that gave 20 minutes of access, presumably because of a fear that people would linger ever slightly over their coffee if the wifi was on tap. Well, it's a long way from Brooklyn's fields of white laptops, one to a table, that have colonised some of the city's hipper cafes, mini office spaces for cash strapped writers, developers, designers, students. Yeah, I don't know how these coffee shops pay their rent either, but it's a part of what makes New York so interesting: subcultures develop and teem over. Endlessly dancing circles.

Anyway, last weekend I found a few more Dublin hostelries advertisting 'free wifi' in their windows. I also got the impression that it had been a bad summer for the hospitality industry, so maybe they've got to work a little harder for that five euro skinny vanilla latte, but it seems like a step in the right direction, a necessary direction.

Tall man/ short woman on Grafton Street

Get your wet Irish summer pictures here, folks!

It appears that just living in a drenched out summer reality is not enough for some of you... at least the ones in Ireland, who are the ones getting drenched! So, I'm getting some google traffic from people in search of pictures of our wet Irish summer, and most of this traffic is coming from within Ireland itself... well I have plenty, and am happy to oblige this particular special interest group. Pictures are fuzzy because of the meeting of a digital non-SLR interface with rapidly moving rain-sodden humans.

Pretty enough

Thoroughly flawless girl (except perhaps for the fact that she has been made a fraud, but by the time this will show in her character she will be probably be already too old, ie. over 10, by then anyway)

Not thoroughly flawless girl.

So the stories are oozing out of China. One can only suck in for so long.

Big hooha as it is revealed that the little girl who was seen 'singing' at the Olympics opening ceremony was just lipsynching. "The child on the screen should be flawless in image, in her internal feelings, and in her expression. In the matter of her voice, Yang Peiyi [girl in the second picture] was flawless, in the unanimous opinion of all team". So says some spokesman, explaining the actions that led to Yang Peiyi standing behind a screen, singing into a microphone, while another girl mummed for the cameras out front.

The real singer was not used, in favour of the girl in the first picture, who was considered flawless, presumably, in her image, internal feelings and expression. The original child chosen to sing the song turned out, at 10, to be too old for the job. Ah. Dear.

I didn't see the opening ceremony, and I haven't been watching any of the events either, but this story caught my eye. There are a lot of stories coming out about western journalists being roughed up, and fake fireworks and such.

So here's the last word, from the girl behind the screen...

"Yang Peiyi is said to have reacted well to the disappointment. "I am proud to have been chosen to sing at all," she said. "

Sunset Motel

Just watched this. American passion. Bee you tee full.

Tweet me!

So I joined Twitter and Facebook as initiatives toward having a more interactive relationship with the internet, which takes up, as it is, so much of my day. Facebook is easy: so many people are on it. Twitter, for those of you who don't know it, is the "What are you doing right now?" question on Facebook, and that is the full extent of what it is. Twitter is exciting in terms of group communications and short burst information sharing. I love the idea of Twitter and the accessibility of it. I have, however, only got four contacts on it. It's on its way up of course, but for now, it's still a little underground compared to Facebook. And really, though I log into Facebook at least once a day lately, there is so much about it that is overly fussy, with an arseways sense of privacy, and heightened appetite for bollockry. Twitter is an open platform, with, as far as I can see, no bullshit applications, and no vampires sent to 'bite', courtesy of the more inane aspects of your friends and acquaintances...

So basically, I'm rooting for Twitter, but most of the internet's social traffic is currently on Facebook and Myspace. My Myspace profile is like some atoll in the middle of the Pacific: totally inaccessible to all but the very rich or adventurous, or those who are native to the atoll. I haven't even visited my own Myspace page in a Very Long Time. Well, I really just need to make another one, so, um, well, yeah.

So, currently, only one of my Twitter contacts is a regular Twitterer, and boy is she a regular Twitterer, so I'm getting a steady stream of what are basically diary entries from her. Now, she's an entertaining writer though a somewhat remote acquaintance, but what's really odd about it is that I get this steady feed from her, through Twitter. I feel like I'm finding out too much about her. This thing needs a little biodiversity... so, if you feel like doing so, you can join Twitter and find me there, under herecomeslucy. Lets broaden this ecosystem!