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Andrzej Szczeklik muses on how deeply rhythm is rooted in the body. I think I have to add Catharsis to my must-read list.
The City was yesterday touched by twenty-seven inches of snow. In the Lower East Side, red, black, and green fire escapes were given pure, white highlights. On Orchard Street, a single figure could possibly be seen trudging through the heavy downfall, an umbrella in one hand, a burning cigarette in the other.
Inside old row houses and above new boutiques, couples are making love, keeping warm, and paying no attention to the time. What else is there to do? This is the Blizzard of 2006.
Today is February 13 — one day before Cupid strikes. I don't know what to do about it. I'…
Australian ER residents share their lessons. Sad, funny, and profane, but they ring very true to this former ER orderly. Biggest lesson: If you're minding your own business and see "some guy" or "some dude" headed your way, get gone. Those guys are trouble.
Prions (proteinaceous infectious particles) challenge the central paradigm of contemporary molecular biology. Hint: Think non-Mendelian transfer of hereditary information.
Are there really non-writers anymore? These are good guidelines, though—although I'd quibble about the semicolon advice.
Scientists at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute have developed a tabletop particle accelerator that confirms and improves upon an earlier experiment conducted at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) that produced nuclear fusion at room temperature.
The device uses two opposing crystals to generate a powerful electric field and the technology could lead to a portable, battery-operated neutron generator. This appears to be the real thing, people.
Using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to measure brain responses to the Superbowl commercials. Your amygdala was not as amused by that FedEx ad as you were.
I've posted a lot of text today, so take a tour of Amiens. Chill out, look around. Beautiful place.
Via www.plep.org.
Or is it? www.moistworks.com is an aggregator site and a darn good one. Here, it explores the relationship between the chicken and funk—although it does omit the superb "Chicken Stuff" by slide guitarist Hop Wilson. And who could ignore Amos Milburn's rocking "Chicken Shack?" OTOH, any place that posts Swamp Dogg's "Eat the Goose Before the Goose Eats You" is well worth visiting.
It must have been at Herald Square, where I was transferring onto the B, that I realized JA had left a message on my cell. I couldn't listen to the message below the ground — no service down there — but the display let me know that the call arrived at 7:58am. Why in the world would John be calling me at 7:58 in the morning? It was now almost 8:30. Shit:
Was
I
late?
But I couldn't be late — the invite said 9:00; I'd checked it a billion times. I'd meant to bring it home last night before leaving the office, but, in my special way, I'd left it, and so many other…