Hancocky

Southbound, Michigan Avenue.

*ZZZzzz*

Have a cold. Took some Benadryl last night, which is like knockout sauce.

I've been a bit of a scofflaw of late, with my writing. The Olympics always throws me a curveball on that score. I love watching the Olympics! What can I say?

When you walk on the sidewalk alone, do you walk to one side? The center? I find that I walk down the center of the sidewalk unless there's somebody coming from the other direction.

I was on the torture bus last night -- the driver had, for a time, toggled the robot voice, and it kept repeating the route. Over and over and over again: "151. Sheridan. To Devon. And. Foster." In that halting robot voice. Repeatedly. That kind of stuff drives me bananas.

Crush: Tanith Belbin

Oh, yes. I have long crushed on Tanith Belbin. Seeing her back in the Vancouver Olympics brought it all back. What a pity she's a Cancer!

I don't know how well she'll do this go'round, but what a nice thing to see her out on the ice yet again.

Yes.

Kefir

Yesterday, "Exene" was gulping down Kefir, and I shuddered at the sight of it. She managed to talk B1 into having some, and, despite initial resistance, it turned out he liked it. When he asked me why I didn't like it, I said "I'm not a fan of yogurt." and he said "But have you ever TRIED it, Daddy?" and I admitted I hadn't, but said that yogurt gave me the willies. It was cute to see him challenging me on that.

On the way home from work, on the bus, I saw a trio of people surfing at the lakeshore, which was very wavy, naturally. They were in wetsuits. You have to be crazy to surf Lake Michigan in February. The water has to be so cold!

Dark Star

I find it fascinating that the idea of a black hole was first theorized during the Enlightenment, before vanishing from scientific thought for a century...

The idea of a body so massive that even light could not escape was put forward by geologist John Michell in a letter written to Henry Cavendish in 1783 to the Royal Society:

If the semi-diameter of a sphere of the same density as the Sun were to exceed that of the Sun in the proportion of 500 to 1, a body falling from an infinite height towards it would have acquired at its surface greater velocity than that of light, and consequently supposing light to be attracted by the same force in proportion to its vis inertiae, with other bodies, all light emitted from such a body would be made to return towards it by its own proper gravity.

—John Michell^[2]

In 1796, mathematician Pierre-Simon Laplace promoted the same idea in the first and second editions of his book Exposition du système du Monde (it was removed from later editions).^[3][4] Such "dark stars" were largely ignored in the nineteenth century, since light was then thought to be a massless wave and therefore not influenced by gravity. Unlike the modern black hole concept, the object behind the horizon of a dark star is assumed to be stable against collapse.

What's Love Got To Do With It?

I found this article in THE NATION interesting. I'll comment on it in a few.

Bent

This is on Clark Street, just north of the intersection of Lincoln and Wells. I like the salt spray on it, and, of course, the snow.

Talking to Himself

My older son was mumbling about something, and I said "What's that, Buddy?" and he said "I'm just talking to myself, Daddy." and I said "Well, tell yourself I said 'hi.'" and he said "Self: my Daddy says 'hi.'" He grinned at me, and I laughed. I like his developing sense of humor!

What Are Words For?

Oooh, I liked this piece on SLATE, it made me snicker.

St. Kilda

Islands always fascinate me. The more remote and isolated, the better. One that currently has my attention is St. Kilda, Scotland. I am fascinated by how long people inhabited this island, which only in the last near-century became effectively depopulated. A small, lonely place. Fascinating!

The evacuation of it, in particular, is enticing...

Numerous factors led to the evacuation. The islands had existed for centuries in relative isolation until tourism and the presence of the military in World War I induced the islanders to seek alternatives to privations they routinely suffered. The changes made to the island by visitors in the nineteenth century disconnected the islanders from the way of life that had allowed their forebears to survive in this unique environment.^[87] Despite construction of a small jetty in 1902, the islands remained at the weather's mercy.^[88]

After World War I most of the young men left the island, and the population fell from 73 in 1920 to 37 in 1928.^[34] After the death of four men from influenza in 1926 there was a succession of crop failures in the 1920s. Investigations by Aberdeen University into the soil where crops had been grown have shown that there had been contamination by lead and other pollutants, caused by the use of seabird carcasses and peat ash in the manure used on the village fields. This occurred over a lengthy period of time as manuring practices became more intensive and may have been a factor in the evacuation.^[89][90] The last straw came with the death from appendicitis of a young woman, Mary Gillies, in January 1930. On 29 August 1930, the remaining 36 inhabitants were removed to Morvern on the Scottish mainland at their own request.

The morning of the evacuation promised a perfect day. The sun rose out of a calm and sparkling sea and warmed the impressive cliffs of Oiseval.... Observing tradition the islanders left an open Bible and a small pile of oats in each house, locked all the doors and at 7 a.m. boarded the Harebell... They were reported to have stayed cheerful throughout the operation. But as the long antler of Dun fell back onto the horizon and the familiar outline of the island grew faint, the severing of an ancient tie became a reality and the St Kildans gave way to tears.^[91]

The islands were purchased in 1931 by Lord Dumfries (later 5th Marquess of Bute), from Sir Reginald MacLeod. For the next 26 years the island experienced quietude, save for the occasional summer visit from tourists or a returning St Kildan family.

Running, Man

I read in one of B1's science magazines about running, how humans appear to be evolutionarily-disposed to run (including the presence of the Achilles' Tendon, which is integral to the process), and glutes -- having buns helps one run! Something about how it counterbalances the forward momentum of the chest when propelling oneself forward -- that if we didn't have buns, we'd lose that vital ability to propel ourselves while remaining upright. There's a clear biomechanical edge glutes provide with running, and it's not simply about energy storage.

What I found most interesting was discussion about sweating and the nature of human running, which favored distance-running, and how it appears to have been used by early humans to run down prey animals. Herd animals like antelopes and what-not rely on sprinting to escape danger, and are capable of great bursts of speed, but, like most (all?) animals, they rely on their mouths to cool off, basically panting themselves cool. So, what that means is that, in the (literal) short run, they can escape people, but what people (particularly early human hunters) could do is simply jog after the animals, maintaining enough of a distance from the animals to force them to sprint/rest, sprint/rest, sprint/rest until they ran themselves out. All animals, no matter how fast, simply overheat after having run (or being made to run) a certain distance, and they will just collapse, exhausted. Something like when their body temperature reaches 105 degrees F.

So, early humans would basically jog animals to death, and, surprisingly, it didn't take that great a distance -- usually around six (6) miles of running would do it, if you were able to keep after the animals. That's apparently how early humans would do it, and why we evolved the muscle/tendon and pulmonary combination we have that lets us run distances. If you were able to run, you could (eventually) eat. Six miles isn't even that much running, in the larger scheme of things. Of course, early humans had to be even more hardcore, when you figure they were running barefoot across the African plains for prey! Ouch!

One down

The novella didn't make it into the anthology, although the comments from the reader/judge were very good, and were in accord with what I felt needed to be done with the story, anyway, so that heartened me. He's clearly a good, sharp reader. I'm fine with rejections so long as people actually read my stuff and offer good feedback, so while it's somewhat disappointing not to get into the anthology, the points he made were valid. I think he liked the story very much, but understand why he passed. And, in truth, I am fine with it, because the story really wanted to be a novel, anyway, and I think I shoehorned a lot into the novella for the sake of not exceeding the word count limit.

Hopefully, the two short stories I have out and the novel will bring me better outcomes! I need to get some more short stories out there, have to find homes for'em. Always such a PITA.

Bahahah

Old-time propaganda and/or public health posters always make me laugh. This one is great:

"You can't beat the Axis if you get VD."

Bahaha! Watch out for those "Good Time" Girls, fellas! That tomato at the dime-a-dance joint may have one fine set of gams, but watch out!