PEUR[s] DU NOIR

I can't wait to get my paws on this one:



I have to wait until February though. Boo. One of the animators is Charles Burns, who wrote Black Hole. Sex, drugs, and awesome black and white imagery.

I was looking at a hole… a black hole and as I looked, the hole opened up… and I could feel myself falling forward, tumbling down into nothingness. For a while I was just floating… I was in this totally black place. It was kind of spacey but it felt nice… nice and safe.





And of course I can't wait for this:



I hope this little ownership war between fox and warner bros ends well.

Hostess Twinkies mate for life

American Gods

I'm reading American Gods right now. It is pretty fantastical and wonderful. A battle is brewing between the ancient gods and our modern gods, full of myth and mysticism. Neil Gaiman blows my mind every time I read one of his stories. I recently finished "Fragile Things" which is a compilation of short stories, poems, and other little tidbits. It was beautiful.

He's working with Henry Selick, who did Nightmare before Christmas, on a new stop motion animation movie based on his book, Coraline. I'm super stoked on that one.


This could be useful information one day.

How the food industry is deceiving you...

WOaH!

I'm not really sure where this came from, I stumbled upon it.

A fatty, fatty conspiracy

Everything seems to be bad for you to an extent, but I really wish they'd stop pumping this stuff into all of our food.

Fructose and high fructose corn syrup are not the same thing. Sugar (sucrose) is a naturally occurring compound, equal parts glucose and fructose. High Fructose corn syrup is an unbound version of fructose and glucose with a different molecular structure. It is not natural. It is manufactured through a chemical process that breaks down natural components of sugar, and extracts and converts the remaining bits into "usable" substances. And then they turn it into a nasty viscous syrup. In natural sugar fructose is a disaccharide. In HFCS it is a monosaccharide.

Fructose is processed mostly by the liver. The liver converts a bunch of fructose into triglycerides. The fructose from HFCS is processed in a different way than that of natural sugar. In HFCS, the fructose is shunted. It skips processing that occurs in the cells of the body to extract the fructose and send it to the liver. It goes straight to the liver. And it is already not bound to glucose so it is processed quickly into fat.

Also, HFCS is about 55% Fructose, unlike natural sugar. HFCS is converted to fat in your body faster than any other sugar.
So on top of that, things that don't even need sweetened have HFCS in them, as a preservative. Food can store longer, making it cheaper. For example, white bread. It is chock full of sugar. As well as a lot of other products you wouldn't expect to find it in.



And how about this:
“Most corn is grown as a monoculture, meaning that the land is used solely for corn, not rotated among crops. This maximizes yields, but at a price: It depletes soil nutrients, requiring more pesticides and fertilizer while weakening topsoil.

“The environmental footprint of HFCS is deep and wide,” writes Pollan, a prominent critic of industrial agriculture. “Look no farther than the dead zone in the Gulf [of Mexico], an area the size of New Jersey where virtually nothing will live because it has been starved of oxygen by the fertilizer runoff coming down the Mississippi from the Corn Belt. Then there is the atrazine in the water in farm country — a nasty herbicide that, at concentrations as little as 0.1 part per billion, has been shown to turn male frogs into hermaphrodites.”

Milling and chemically altering corn to form high-fructose corn syrup also is energy-intensive. That’s not to say that corn is evil and other foods aren’t; all crops require energy to grow and transport. What makes corn a target is that federal subsidies — and tariffs on imported sugar — keep prices low, paving the way for widespread use of high-fructose corn syrup and, in the process, keeping the American palate accustomed to the sweetness it provides.

Corn is a useful crop with high yields, although it uses more fertilizers and insecticides and causes more soil erosion than other crops, according to David Pimentel, a professor in Cornell University’s College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. “Organic corn is not a large part of the industry, but it should be,” he says. Pimentel published a study in 2005 demonstrating that, over 22 years, growing corn organically produced the same yields as conventional growing and used 33 percent less fuel.”

When Coke switched to HFCS it gave them a 70 million dollar advantage over Pepsi (30 years ago or something) Diabetes is a scary thing. My Gpa has 1 1/2 feet because of diabetes. Or more so because of his trouble coping with diabetes, but still. I want 2 whole feet.
“HFCS, a liquid sweetener commonly used in soft drinks that contains both fructose and glucose, has been accused of causing diabetes, particularly in children, and a recent study further supported this theory.

The study investigated 11 different soft drinks and found “astonishingly high” levels of reactive carbonyls, which are thought to cause cell and tissue damage.

Reactive carbonyls are associated with diabetes, as they’re found in higher levels in the bloodstreams of people with the disease. Reactive carbonyls are linked with the unbound structure of fructose and glucose molecules in HFCS, and are not found in table sugar.”
Fructose also inhibits satiation (that nice full feeling you get after a good meal). That makes us eat more. If your diet lacks important nutrients (which it will if you eat a shit ton of processed foods) you will keep getting cravings until you give your body what its lacking.

[…] President Bush signed a bill requiring taxpayers to pay farmers $4 billion a year, over a ten-year period, to grow more corn. More corn when the U.S. is desperately trying to find ways to get rid of the current surplus corn produced here. More corn when farmers are currently selling it for over a dollar less per bushel than it cost them to produce it. A $190 billion bill to grow more corn when planting less corn would increase the price farmers receive for it, and eliminate the extreme surplus. If farmers don’t benefit from this bill, then who does? The Archer Daniels Midlands, Tysons and Coca-Colas of the world. “ - Mercola.com (”Why Corn Is Not Your Best Food Choice“)

This one is long so just play it in the background while you do something else.

Will you be my friend?

I'll let you hold my teddy bear.

Watch this!

La Jette. This was Terry Gilliams inspiration for 12 monkeys:



Also this:La Cite des Enfants Perdus



I can't believe I went through this much of my life before I saw this movie. It had everything; evil conjoined twins, a sinister cult, and lots of hurdy gurdy.

Merry Christmas!

Not that I love the holidays or anything.

I heart Murakami.

I read Norwegian Wood recently, and now I'm reading Kafka on the Shore. Both of these have taken my mind on a very strange trip. They are novels by Haruki Murakami.

"Haruki Murakami is quite possibly the most successful and influential cult author in the world today. The 59-year-old sells millions of books in Japan. His fifth novel, Norwegian Wood, sold more than 3.5m copies in its first year and his work has been translated into 40 languages, in which he sells almost as well. Last year’s novella, After Dark, shifted more than 100,000 copies in English in its first three months. His books are like Japanese food — a mix of the delicate, the deliberately bland and the curiously exotic. Dreams, memory and reality swap places, all leavened with dry humour. His translator, Professor Jay Rubin, says reading Murakami changes your brain. His world-view has inspired Sofia Coppola, the author David Mitchell and American bands such as the Flaming Lips. He is a recipient of the Franz Kafka prize, has honorary degrees from Princeton and Liège, and is tipped for the Nobel prize for literature." -Stephen Armstrong from Times Online




His writing has this weird affect on me, like it starts to change the way my mind works when I'm in the middle of his novels. I guess I'm not the only one. I've read a lot of books, and his are just so magical compared to others. He takes you into his world, and its like he's aware that he can do that. He realizes as he's telling you this story that he is drawing you in and he talks to you. I think he is my new second favorite author. I still like Tom Robbins more. Maybe after I've read 10 Murakami books I'll like him more though. We'll see because I plan on reading everything he's ever written. Anything about dreams fascinates me completely. I might be egocentric in thinking this, but I feel like my dreams are more intense than the average person. They have an intense effect on my psyche. The characters in Murakami's writing are so rich, and a lot of them have very surreal, dream-like experiences.

A fairy tale from me to you (illustrated)

"You must understand, ma petite bichette," her mother was wailing. "We cannot make ends meet."

As she was being shoved into the wagon, Adele looked up and read "Cirque Spectaculaire" lining the door in weathered red paint. Tears began streaming down her face, blurring her vision. Her mother's parting gift, a necklace her father had given her, glinted at her neck. The man who had bought her eyed it. He had a stern face, and Adele was afraid of him.

"Franconi," she heard her mother calling from a distance. "She is a strange girl. Take care of her. Please..."

They traveled for much of the day before they reached the grand circus tent. Franconi put her to work immediately.

"This is not fun and games. You perform in three days. Cecile ran off with that flying trapeze son of a bitch, so you're the new act. You will be a tight rope walker."

A rush of fear ran through Adele's body. She spent the next six hours attempting the tight rope. Hard as she tried, she could not make it more than a few steps before falling. Each time she fell the ringmaster would lash her with his whip, like an animal. At midnight he left her, crying by the tightrope.

"What am I to do? I am no performer. C'est impossible."



"Bon Jour, mon cherie!" Adele looked around and saw no one. She had thought she was alone. Just then, a shabby clown midget stumbled from the shadows. He was clutching a bottle in his hand. "Why are you crying, mon cherie?" he asked kindly.

"Franconi," she grumbled. "I must learn the tight rope, but I keep falling and he whips me for punishment."

"I think I can help you," offered the little clown. He pulled a ratty pair of slippers from his overcoat. "If you wear these you will be able to cross without falling." Adele reached eagerly for the shoes. "eh eh eh..." said the clown wagging his finger at her. "You must do something for me." "Oh, anything!" She exclaimed. "I need those shoes."

"The head clown has a bottle of gold liquor. Steal it for me and I will give you the shoes." And with that the clown was gone.

Adele introduced herself to the head clown and flirted with him a bit. He offered her a drink, and she engaged him in a long conversation. Each time he made her one she pretended to drink it, but poured it into a jar at her side. By the end of the night she had filled it with the gold liquor.

The next day she performed flawlessly on the tight rope for Franconi. She noticed him eyeing her slippers. "I am quite pleased with your performance. Today I have a new trick for you." He wet the rope from a bottle and dropped a match on it. The entire rope was on fire. "But..." protested Adele.

"But NOTHING," roared Franconi. "You perform in two days!" With that he walked away.

Again, Adele sat weeping. "Ah, mon cherie." The little clown was back. He took a swig from his near empty jar. "What seems to be the problem now?"

"He lit the rope on fire! First he demands I learn to tight rope walk, now I have to do it on fire. I keep burning myself. C'est impossible," sobbed Adele.

"No, no. Nothing is impossible," slurred the clown. "I have something for you." He held out a beautiful silk cape. "What do I have to do this time?" Adele asked skeptically.

"Oh don't worry. I just need you to fix my makeup. I fell asleep and I was underneath some costumes and my makeup rubbed off."

The next day with the cape Adele performed the fire tight rope effortlessly. "Excellent," exclaimed Franconi. "You're a natural...so it shouldn't be hard for you to walk while you juggle these," he said brandishing three daggers. "Uh, no...I'll be fine," Adele said uselessly . She waited, anticipating the little clown's arrival. At two she began to worry, and searched the town for him. He was passed out in the gutter outside of a bar.

"Mon..." stuttered the clown. "Mon che..." " Adele," she offered.

"Nice to meet you," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, silly. You know me. I need your help." "Help?" The clown asked belligerently. "Yeah, help. That's all. Want me to do more tricks for you, huh? Well..."

"Oh please!" begged Adele. "The show is tomorrow night! This is the last time."

"I don--well...what's he asking you for this time?" asked the clown. She showed him the daggers.

"Ok lets see," he said as he rummaged around in his coat. "Here we are!" He was holding up a dirty looking clown nose.

"That?" asked Adele in disbelief.

"Well do you want it or not?" The clown sounded impatient.

"Ok, ok," she said reaching for it.

"Eh eh eh!" he shouted suddenly. "There is a gypsy camp 9 miles from here where they make magical fiddles. You must bring me one."

Adele wandered all night to find the gypsy camp. The gypsy's tried to kill her at first, thinking she was an intruder. The only thing she had to offer them was her mother's necklace. It was all she had left of her family, but she got the fiddle and that was what was important now. The clown's face lit up when he saw the fiddle.



Once he gave her the clown nose Adele clamored up to the rope, excited to attempt the new trick. The clown began to play and sing:


"Mon cherie, woe is me, how foolish you can be.' You crossed the rope with no help from the shoes, I could hardly believe you bought my ruse That cape is beautiful but holds no magic, The extend of your naivety is tragic That nose is only decoration this deserves a celebration!"

The little clown took a long swig from his bottle.


"Mon cherie, woe is me, how foolish you can be. You did those tricks with no help but your own and thus great talent have you shown It seems it was in you all along, I hope you liked my little song..."


As he sang, Adele stopped juggling and stood stunned in the middle of the rope. Could it be true? She plucked off the nose, and threw it along with the cape and shoes to the ground. Then she began to juggle. The little clowns fiddle playing began to fade as he stumbled out of the tent towards the bar.

"Mon cherie, woe is me..."