Currently at the Jonathan LeVine gallery, Invader's exhibition Top 10:

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Also, a logarathmic spiral and the golden spiral. And many more.

The final instalment of the intrepid Bee-Jin's second adventure, "Motel Art Improvement Service" appeared today. I enjoyed the occasional appearance of this comic, which began over four years ago, and read it compulsively. I already await her next appearance ... and wonder whether this adventure will join "Shutterbug Follies" in hardcover.

The Cooper's Hill Cheese-Rolling and Wake is held annually near Gloucester, England. I learned about this through boston punto com's The Big Picture.

Here's some viral marketing for you: I saw this posted on a blog somewhere — where I cannot recall! — and looked at Madsen's site. The Utah-based cargobike builder are running a promotion in which anyone with a blog can win one of their bicycles. Splendid! I want a cargo bicycle: I can haul our groceries, the baby, and a whole lotta everything.

Yes. A whole lotta everything.

What do you call those noisy birds that fly over the ocean? Sea gulls. And the noisy birds that fly over the Rockaways?

Today I rode through Times Square.

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The difference is not palpable, surprisingly: the sight of people lazing in deck chairs, of throngs passing through each intersection, all still blends with the oversized open-top tour buses and the yellow taxicabs. Everything is in its right place.

This GG Allin "throbblehead" action figure is pretty remarkable.

GG Allin's last show was at the Space 2B, which is somewhere under the rubble in this photograph. — which survives in this AOL Cityguide listing.

Aram steered me to Derek Erdman, repository of all the cool. Here's a shot of GG Allin's grave site.

(Audio of The Fall playing the Black Monk Theme)

A few months ago I saw Lucia Palacios's and Dietmar Post's bittersweet movie about the brief rise and fall of The Monks: The Transatlantic Feedback. It spun the tale of how the Monks played together while in Germany, and how their lives ravelled upon return to the States. I had first heard their music as noisily covered by The Fall on Extricate, and then on the revelatory american recordings re-issue in the '90s. Although I had heard that the Monks were GIs on a lark, I did not know the depths to which their image as a nihilist, surreal rock'n'roll combo depended on their Continental impressarios.

One of my fave-rave summer tunes from '08 reappears. Be sure to use the Track and Pan buttons for extra nuttiness.

This corner caught my eye for the faded advertisement on the façade:

The building itself has landmark status, but may be demolished due to its decrepit state.

I discovered the word equivoque through deepleap.org, my favourite online thing-to-do. Meaning a pun or a double entedre, it comes through the French équivoque, from Late Latin aequivocus, ambiguous.

I built up this bicycle in autumn of 2002, and it went through a period of light use until the theft of the belovèd Gold Dutchess in the spring of 2005. Since moving last year, it has been the only bicycle I ride.

More photos of this Kogswell in various configurations; the memory of riding the Kogswell on the last Krispy Kreme Klassic.

Tarkovsky's Mirror Set to Arvo Pärt's Mirror in the Mirror :

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The first, from the cafeteria at work; the latter, from the chic restaurant down the fashionable street. Neither matches Roscoe's House of Chicken and W., a luminary institution just down the freeway.

St.-Marks-In-The-Bowery, at the intersection of 10th and Stuyvesant Streets and 2nd Avenue, often has something happening in front of it.

A group of young women, all wearing similar white blouses, medium-length black skirts, and bright safety orange face masks, stood in the square outside the church, calmly marching in place. As we watched, a similarly-attired woman opened the box and walked in; the man in front of me helpfully said that this was her work. Her dance? Her performance? Her political statement? He did not know, but expressed admiration and fascination.

“I would ask people to actually go see a donkey basketball game before they jump on the bandwagon of trying to put it down."

The truth, my friends, is stranger than any fiction. Dwarf-tossing, quadriplegic rugby, midget-lifting, cock-fights — donkey basketball?

The Maysles Institute in Harlem moved a few months ago; I have not yet visited it.

"Folks, brace yourselves; hold on to something. Here's Sonic Youth. Yeah!"

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and, although I cannot embed the video for Do You Believe in Rapture?, it gets me all worked up every time I watch it.

This next song is called, I'm sorry, I forgot to tune my guitar before we went on-stage:

In a finding that may open new approaches to treating heart disease, Swedish scientists have succeeded in measuring a highly controversial property of the human heart — the rate at which its muscle cells are renewed during a person’s lifetime.

From Latin vates, vatic means "prophetic". Merriam-Webster's Word-of-the-Day comment notes: "Some people say only thin lines separate poetry, prophecy, and madness. We don't know if that's generally true, but it is in the case of "vatic." The adjective derives directly from the Latin word "vates," meaning "seer" or "prophet." But that Latin root is in turn distantly related to an Old English word for "poetry," an Old High German word for "madness," and an Old Irish word for "seer" or "poet." "

787 Cliparts by Oliver Laric.

Reading an article on beetle armament and sexual selection, I found ordure, a cognate with Latin. It comes to contemporary English from the Middle English, from Anglo-French, from ord dirty, foul, from Latin horridus horrid. The article also contains this colourful, editorial remark:

People have pathetically puny teeth and claws compared with the armaments of other dominant species. This is a sign not of pacific intent but of the fact that they manufacture their weapons. The manufactured weapons, just like biological ones, have assumed a display function — think of the fearsome appearance of samurai helmets or armored knights, or the menacing tanks and rockets that paraded through Red Square in Moscow in the days of the Soviet Union.

... which, upon re-reading, calls to mind a Gary Larson cartoon -- not any one in particular, but the notion of one.

Muto is an animated film with public walls for cels, drawn and photographed by Bolognese graffiti artist Blu.

Provides a splendid opportunity for picking off inane cyclists. I am somewhat embarrassed that Robert Sullivan, whose journalism I enjoyed in Rats, his account of New York City's most popular rodent (the bird is the most popular finger), endorses such pablum. I do not think that the Thoreau I know would have encouraged use of a push-cycle on a roadway shared with the fair sex.

The folksy fiddle music adds a ludicrous air to the proceedings.

This man tells a tale of his humble heroics:

“I was waiting for the C to go downtown to a reading,” he said from his office on West 30th Street, where he works as a proofreader. “I’m an actor — shocker.”

He said most everyone seems to be an aspiring actor nowadays, but in this case, it is a critical point to the story: Mr. Lindsey currently appears in an Off-Broadway show called “Kasper Hauser,” in a role that requires him to repeatedly lift a character who cannot walk.

[ ... dramatic rescue as train approaches ... ]

Then I sort of freaked out, and I was nervous and shaky. These five women opened their purses and gave me Handi-Wipes. I was covered in blood and dirt from the subway tracks. One woman was a nurse, and said, ‘Don’t have caffeine or cigarettes for an hour and a half,’ because of the adrenaline in my heart.”