Can I recycle my broken blue box by placing it out for recycling collection?
No. Our automated sorting equipment cannot handle broken blue boxes. Therefore, if you need to throw out a broken blue box, put it in a garbage bag and put it out for garbage collection.
The City of Winnipeg
I’ll appear on 680 CJOB AM radio soon, so tune in for a look at recent large media events through a fictional lens.
||August 15, 2014
||680 CJOB AM radio interview
||680 CJOB AM
My longing for books increases along with my hatred of everything else.
Rabbits is basically a sitcom that doesn’t feel like one. The result is a surreal series of scenes that oscillate between being hilarious and terrifying.
It’s a fascinating study in how an artist can manipulate the audience by satisfying one set of formal expectations (here, by structuring the film like a sitcom), while frustrating and refusing to satisfy the associated, traditional content expectations. Since form and content can’t truly be separated, holding them at a remove like this produces a wonderful frisson.
MW has already constructed one of the best remixes of my book Ex Machina, which auto-generates alternate versions of the text, and now he has outdone himself with a visual remix that lets you pick start and end points to generate poem/pathways. You can even read through/rewrite the book using a visual map (pictured above).
An overview of the four elements of a strong thesis statement, intended for undergraduate essay writers.
Science fiction has always been attracted by speeds greater than that of light. Far stranger, however, would be the register of lower speeds to which light itself could descend. . . . What if light slowed, dropping to “human” speeds? What if it bathed us in a slow-motion flux of images, until it was slower than our own movement? We would then need to generalize from the case of light reaching us from stars that have long ceased to exist — their image is still crossing light-years to get to us. If light was infinitely slower, a lot of things, even the closest ones, would have already suffered the fate of those stars: we would see them, and they’d be here, but they would no longer be there. Wouldn’t this be the case for the real itself: something whose image is still coming at us, but which no longer exists? We can make the analogy with mental objects and the mental ether. Or supposing light were very slow, could bodies approach us faster than their image — then what would happen? They would rub into us without our seeing them coming. We could further imagine, unlike our universe, where slow bodies move at prodigious speeds, except light itself, which would be very slow. Total chaos, no longer regulated by the instantaneity of luminous messages. Light like the wind, with variable speeds, even dead calms, where no image could get to us from the zones affected. Light like perfume: differing according to the body, scarcely diffusing outside of an immediate environment. A sphere of luminous messages attenuating as they go. The images of the body scarcely propagate beyond a certain luminous territory: beyond that, it no longer exists. Or, also, light moving with the slowness of continents, continental plates, one slipping over the other, and thus provoking shocks that would distort all our images and visions of space. . . . So slow that it could curl up on itself and even stop totally in its progression, light could lead to a total suspension of the universe.