Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Id

From Freud's structure of the psyche, "Id" is the unorganised and untamed part of the psyche that contains our most primitive drives.

"We all approach the id with analogies: we call it a chaos, a cauldron full of seething excitations... It is filled with energy reaching it from the instincts, but it has no organisation, produces no collective will, but only a striving to bring about the satisfaction of the instinctual needs subject to the observance of the pleasure principle."
Freud, New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis (1933)


"Recreation of the Id" by Robert Panzullo
(Brilliant artist. You can see more of his work here.)


The term "Id" originates from Latin, meaning literally "that". (This may better explain the valedictory insignia on my previous entry). I like the simplicity.

I'm fascinated by what I find fascinating.

Chaotic Ethan..

Lying In Repose

'Neath an entwined copse of rosebushes, and the reverie of romance,
Sleeps a diminutive creature of scepticism and scrutiny.
Its wings of chrome and cracked ashen leather crave chance,
For the cool updrafts of mystery and the warm winds of salacity.
But the covetous beast feels only the thorns of trapping delusions;
A farcical masquerade; a locked prison of illusion,
To which the absent paramour, alone possesses the key.


Id Ethan..

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Nessie

I believe that the Loch Ness Monster existed. The problem is trying to explain a creature and behaviour that fits the evidence for and against its existence. Mainly, why are there many "sightings" of giant moving creatures on sonar, but when the BBC performed a full search of the Loch, using over 600 separate sonar beams and satellite tracking - a combination that could pick up a small buoy - why was there no significant sightings?

There are obviously a lot of hoaxes surrounding the Loch Ness Monster, and a lot of evidence has been ruled out, so I'll try to decipher as best I can:

Firstly - What.
A fool would believe that there is only one creature in there that produces the evidence that we have. A fool would also believe that Nessie is a plesiosaur left over from the Cretaceous period. If there were plesiosaurs living in the Loch, there would be multiple sightings daily as they would have to surface to breathe. Also, Loch Ness is only 10,000 years old, and was a solid ice cube for 20,000 years before that. Plesiosaurs also couldn't live in such frigid waters as they would be cold-blooded. So not a plesiosaur.
I believe the evidence shows that the "monsters" are (or were) particularly large amphibious creatures (a hypothesis which has been supported by experts R.T. Gould and Roy Mackal) - possibly resembling the physiology of a large newt. It has been argued that the creatures sighted could be giant eels, but as they move in an undulating sideways motion they don't fit the sonar evidence.

Secondly - How are they spotted so many times, but not one significant hit in 2003?
I believe that these creatures have unfortunately perished. Although there is a lot of evidence to suggest that there was a significant connection between Loch Ness and the North Sea, nowadays, it's unlikely for such an animal to migrate unnoticed. The northern waterways from Loch Ness to the North Sea are indeed large enough to allow the migration of hundreds of five-foot pike and salmon every season, so it is possible for them to support quite large animals. But there is still hope.

The problem with the Loch is that it is horribly murky - you can only see the top five feet of a Loch that is (at its maximal) 40km long, 2.4km wide, and 250m deep. As such, the only evidence that can be taken is sonar.

Now, the evidence.

The contemporary interest in the Loch Ness Monster began on July 22, 1933, when George Spencer and his wife spotted a large animal cross the road 20m in front of their car, leaving broken undergrowth in its wake. They described the creature as having a long neck, about 3m long, extended from a large body approximately 1m high and 8m long. They reported seeing no limbs - this has been discussed in the media as proving the depiction of a plesiosaur-like creature, but the report also notes that the couple couldn't see the lower portion of the body due to a dip in the road. Such sightings, with precise descriptions of similar creatures continued throughout that year, and sporadically through to 1963 where the first video footage was released.

Unfortunately, as it was taken at a distance of 4km, it is quite poor quality, but does indeed show an animate object that fits the dimensions described in early accounts:


The periodic nature of the sightings between 1933 and 1963 could be the result of migrational movements through the waterways explained earlier. The sightings became frequent enough to prompt the creation of hunting parties determined to capture the creature "dead or alive", and in 1938, the Chief Constable (William Frasier) wrote a letter declaring that he had no doubts that the creatures existed and believed that he was unable to protect the "monsters" from such parties.

In 1943, a member of the Royal Observer Corps reported seeing a creature some 230m away from his boat. He also described a long body, about 6m long, with an extended neck that protruded about 1.5m out of the water. The theory of an amphibious creature helps to explain this encounter but also explains why there may not be as many as if the creature required air like a marine mammal (or a plesiosaur).

In 1954, the fishing boat Rival III spotted sonar readings of a large object keeping pace with the boat some 150m below. The large object followed the boat for about 800m before disappearing behind the boat, only to appear some time later. Although there were many sonar reports before this, the Rival III's encounter was the first conclusively positive sonar report of such a creature.

In 1960, Tim Dinsdale used a primitive 16mm camera to film a "hump" crossing the water with a powerful wake for approximately four minutes. This film was repudiated by sceptics, as it was claimed that if the contrast was increased, the hump is simply a boat, with a man clearly seen on board. However, in 1993, Discovery Communications made the documentary Loch Ness Discovered where they digitally enhanced the Dinsdale Film. The computer expert's analysis found the outlines of the rear body, rear flippers and two additional humps of the body.

In 1968, the Loch Ness Phenomena Investigation Bureau (LNPIB) introduced a two-week trial where they used sonar transducers to create a sonar "net" across a section of the Loch to see if any animate objects passed through the area. They reported multiple 6m long animate objects travelling in a distinct propulsion motion, ascending from, and descending to the Loch floor. These objects reached speeds of 10 knots (19 km/h) and the fact that they rose and descended so rapidly implies that they are animals, rather than just abnormally large fish.

In 1969, the LNPIB performed another examination, this time in a sweep formation. They followed a 6m long moving object for approximately three minutes.

In 1969, a team from the World Book Encyclopaedia attempted to use a submersible to track the sonar hits from earlier expeditions. The Pisces picked up a large moving object on sonar 60m ahead of the craft, about 15m above the Loch floor. The pilot closed to half that distance (30m) but the echo moved rapidly out of sonar range and disappeared.

In 1970, the biologist Roy Mackal used hydrophones (underwater microphones) to monitor the length of the Loch. "Bird-like chips" were heard by the hydrophones, with the deepest ones (set at 180m) showing that many of the sounds came from a deeper source. Later recordings revealed "knocks and clicks" followed by "turbulent swishing" sounds, suggesting the tail-locomotion of a large animal. Interestingly, the noises stopped whenever a craft passed over or near the hydrophones.

In 1972, Robert H. Rines, a lawyer, inventor, researcher, and composer, looked out his friend's window and allegedly saw the creature powering across the Loch. He, his wife, and his friends were convinced. Mrs Rines said to her husband, "You need to find that animal again, no matter how long it takes." Thus began this brilliant man's lifelong quest.

Later in 1972, Rines tried to capture a photograph of the creatures to see if the animals producing the sounds in Mackal's experiments were the same as those on the sonar. He attached submersible cameras with high-powered floodlights, capable of piercing the ludicrously murky deep Loch water, just enough to produce a vague image of a close object. When the submersed devices picked up an echo on sonar, the floodlights would be hit and a picture taken. This is the result:


In 1972, Rines performed more sonar sweeps, finding several 6-9m moving objects. This time the more advanced Raytheon DE-725C was able to pick up disturbances projecting from the rear of the objects. These 3m long rapidly moving echoes suggested "highly flexible laterally flattened tails" used for the tail-locomotion implied in the hydrophone experiments.

Unfortunately, this is where the more conclusive sonar echoes begin to fade away.

In 2001, Rines' team found marine clam-shells and fungi that aren't usually found in fresh-water. This suggests that the connections from Loch Ness to the ocean could still be intact and it is possible that such waterways could support the migration of larger animals.

In 2008, Rines declared that due to a lack of recent recordings and the effect of global warming, he believed that the creatures in the Loch were unable to adapt to the warming waters of the Loch and had died. Rines then turned his attention to sweeping the Loch's floor for animal remains in the hopes of finding proof of the creatures' existence. He managed to inspect only 5 of his 100 locations of interest until he died on November 1, 2009.

When once asked about his work and his sceptics, Rines replied, "Admiral Peary had to make 28 trips before he got to the North Pole. What am I to do, forget what I saw?"

God bless that man.


So. In conclusion. I'm convinced large creatures roamed Loch Ness. These creatures were approximately 6m in length with long necks and long tails (which were used for locomotion). I believe the creatures either moved out of the Loch into the North Sea, or have unfortunately died. For some reason I'm really not that fussed whether the finding of a large animal carcass will ever come to be, and the existence of such animals will be conclusively proven - or not.

I'm just a man possessed by an idea.

Submersed Ethan..

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Steampunk

I think that the idea of a steampunk world is brilliant. The link between steampunk and magic realism in Howl's Moving Castle is especially appealing. And there are so many reason why I love this genre;

The gizmos;



(The above, believe it or not, is a working PC)


The transports;




The ever beautiful women;



The houses;


(The above is from Shaun Tan's The Arrival. Brilliant.)


And the general surreal mayhem that is the world;


I might try to write a little something in this vein.

Steam Ethan..

Monday, June 14, 2010

My Mistress, Maggie

Yes. I have named my guitars. My favourite is Maggie - my temptress, my mistress, my distress: the very definition of fickle. I find it amazing that some days I will try to learn a new (often deplorably simple) song and get nowhere.

Then, on a day like today, when there is no clarity or reason for reaction and co-ordination - on the contrary, as it is the Monday after my 21st birthday weekend, my motor skills should be decidedly frazzled - I will be able to pick up and remember songs that I've spent only a couple of minutes trying to figure out.

My songs today;
Hello, I'm in Delaware - City and Colour
Hey There Delilah - Plain White Ts
The Minstrel's Prayer - Cartel

and my favourite at present;
Cannonball - Damien Rice

I know I'm a bit late on this bandwagon, but a truly beautiful song in every way; and very fun to play.

It's Not Hard To Fall Ethan..

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

"And There Goes My Life..."

I've unfortunately been forced to study my previous subject's research of depression and grief - this elective has not been a happy one. But there are buoys of enlightenment to hold on to.

This song is so beautifully, heart-wrenchingly honest, and although I believe it's a long-distance relationship, or perhaps break-up song, I find it fitting to every form of grief or loss. I love how it covers you with the umber dust of regret and sorrow for lost loved ones, then picks you up, brushes the webs if dolour from your sunken shoulders, and sends you off into the mountains with nothing but hope.


"Hello, I'm In Delaware" - City and Colour (Dallas Green)


So there goes my life,
Passing by with every exit sign.
It's been so long,
Sometimes I wonder how I will stay strong.
No sleep tonight,
I'll keep on driving these dark highway lines.
And as the moon fades,
One moment gone, only twenty more days.

But I will see you again,
I will see you again,
A long time from now.

And there goes my life,
Passing by with every departing flight.
And its been so hard,
So much time so far apart.
And she walks the night.
How many hearts will die tonight?
And will things have changed?
I guess I'll find out in seventeen days.

But I will see you again,
I will see you again,
A long time from now.

My body aches,
And it hurts to sing.
No one is moving.
And I wish that I weren't here tonight,
But this is my life.

And I will see you again,
I will see you again,
A long time from now.

And I will see you again,
I will see you again a long time from now.


See you later Ethan..

Monday, June 7, 2010

Howl's Moving Castle

I couldn't recommend this movie enough.



["You who swallowed a falling star, o' heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine." Hmm, that can't be good for the table.]

Turnip-Head Ethan..

Moving Realisation

Do You Realise?

"...you make me feel alive..." - "Breathe" - Angels & Airwaves.

Experimenting in Locomotion, Ethan..

Sunday, June 6, 2010

My First Attempt At A Novel, Part II

The sun filtered into the visitors’ room with a discoloured translucence, due to the dwindling budget of the prison and the use of the same tainted bulletproof glass as that in the booths separating loved one from loved one – or in Luke’s case, life-long friend from unfortunate life-long friend.

Mikey sat at the only empty booth, obviously unaware of the teachings from his dozens of previous visits; upon seeing Luke he raised his arms and roared a presumably crass greeting, happily ignorant to the role of the telephones attached to the counters. He began to laugh to himself. The other visitors stopped the precious little time for conversing with their incarcerated loved ones to stare intently at the weasely man sitting alone.
Luke walked past the guard watching over the room and moved to the booth. He glanced around at the other inmates, smirked sheepishly at his neighbour, then sat down and picked up the phone.
“Hey.”
“Herald! How’s things?” Mikey’s life work was simple and constant: find any and every way of referring to Luke as an angel, bird or any other entity that possesses wings, wing-like arms, or a name that rhymes with wings.
“Herald. Angels herald things. Guy’s name. Get it?” Mikey's smiled and raised his eyebrows to show the immense pride he had for his efforts.
“Yeah I get it.” Luke couldn’t help but smile. Up until this point, Mikey was the only constant, dependable thing in his life, as he was so undependable and unstable in every way.
“So. Clipping Day, ay?” Mikey gestured to the roughly pruned feathers sticking out at odd angles. “You look like road kill that has unfortunately and inhumanely been brought back to life.”
“Oh, gee, thanks.” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “One of the guards has become pretty good at that lasso. I think he’s been practicing.”
Mikey held the phone away from his mouth, perhaps thinking that if Luke couldn’t hear him laughing, he would be oblivious.
“They finally got the lasso trick? What a flock of birdbrain dodos!” For some reason Mikey adopted a Cockney English accent.
“Alright. That’s enough.” Luke knew if he didn’t try to stop him, he would just keep going.
“Couldn’t be more cuckoo.”
“Ok, Mikey.”
“They’re so stupid they wouldn’t know a finch from a fairy penguin! I trust you gave them the bird?” Mikey couldn’t hold his lips together for much longer. The corners of his mouth were heading past his ears.
“Ha. Ha.” Luke said sarcastically. “I’m not a fucking bird. And penguins don’t even have wings, cock.”
“HA! COCK!”
Mikey fell backwards out of his chair.
Luke hung up the phone and walked out of the visitors’ room.


Stay Tuned..

E. L. Dornbusch..

Shark Storm


Great White Ethan..

On Writing, Part IV

A creative writer: a rebel without a clause.

Ethan..

Saturday, June 5, 2010

On Pantheism

I have just discovered that there have been some incredibly influential Panthers, whose work has been incredibly influential in my life. The things we learn. I also like that the more research I do, the more I see how these people have helped to shape many other religions. I think their transcendence around and through these doctrines is exactly how I perceive what a healthy belief to be. No one should be happy sitting still. Everything is changing.

Albert Einstein
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Henry David Thoreau
Walt Whitman
D. H. Lawrence

Ansel Adams was also a Panther, and although he hasn't been particularly influential in my life, his iconic black and white photos are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen.

The Tetons and the Snake River

I would also like to look like Walt Whitman when I am old.


Ethan..

Pantheism

For most of my life I've been bouncing between beliefs and theologies. No religion out there really seems right; I don't think any collection of ideas can form a religion for more than one person. The idea of a mass amount of people feeling compelled to believe the same thing, and have their beliefs shaped by anything but their own perception of the universe vexes me. See IntoleRANT VagRANT CorroboRANT, Are We There Yet? and "A Humble Admiration of the Illimitable Superior Spirit" - actually most of my blog is centred around this inward search for a knowledge of nothing.
A couple of weeks ago I discovered a religion that (although my belief is still slightly different, it) is the closest yet: Pantheism. Pantheism comes from pan (all) + theos (God) = literally, all is God. However, this discovery was not the result of a soul-sapping search, or spiritual epiphany; I found it accidentally as I was typing "Pantheon" into my computer's dictionary.

The irony.

If you would like to know more, see here.

Catholics have Catholicism. Buddhists have Buddhism. I hope those who believe in Pantheism are Panthers.

Heraclitus Ethanus..

Friday, June 4, 2010

My First Attempt At A Novel, Part I

The Cage
12th of May, 2010.

It was an odd occurrence for Luke to find himself in such a dire location, condition and vocation. Although in hindsight, from the moment he was born his condition prompted poking and prodding of a physical and metaphysical nature, and caused him to fall into numerous predicaments, so perhaps the concomitant result is far from odd. In fact it was his seemingly fitting vocation and peculiar condition that landed him in such a location. Even his real name was indicative of his abnormality, which is why he incessantly referred to himself as Luke. But in his current quandary the constant struggle of equality that plagued his existence was suddenly reversed into a glow of appreciation for his oddity.

There were seven men advancing on him. All of them had dark blue shirts and trousers with small black epaulets on the shoulders. All but one had octagonal flat caps with short brims. The dishevelled hatless man stood on the wing of the group, slightly behind the others, holding a long coil of rope and spinning the noose end menacingly.

“Oh, shit.” Luke had an apparent firm grasp of the situation.

“Now, just take it easy. No one wants any trouble.” The largest guard spoke through gritted teeth. Luke’s eyes spun quickly, darting from foe to foe. The men advanced closer, edging their way over the concrete floors. Luke was shorter than all of them – a physical trait that was passed down the bloodline of his vertically challenged father. He sank further back from the small mob, until he felt the bricks and metal of the wall.
“Easy, buddy. Easy.” The rope-wielding cowboy-guard began pushing the others forward. The seven men advanced slowly, their arms stretched out as if they were about to take flight. The irony. Firstly, as Luke was the first person in history to be born with wings; and secondly, the men were indeed trying to take the option of flight away from him.
Luke looked to the ceiling of the prison’s indoor recreation area. He spied the usual target: the small ledge of the highest barred window. He glanced between the advancing guards, and took a deep breath.
“Now! Now! Now!” The guards gave their portentous battle cries and charged at Luke. He spread his wings to their full and awe-inspiring span and with a mighty plunge towards the cracked floor he rose in majesty from the chaos below. The guards rushed forward and threw themselves at Luke’s feet, falling inches short and crashing together against the wall. With another burst Luke ascended over the guards heads and turned his attention to the window ledge.

Unfortunately, the cowboy-guard proved to be unbefitting of ridicule, and expertly looped the coiled rope over Luke’s head.

From the age of seventeen, Luke had been able to pick up and fly comfortably with an average-sized person in his arms – it had even been his job for some time. But flying with five large men hanging from a rope crushing his voice box proved to be the shortest game of tug-of-war in history.

Upon Luke’s unceremonious landing – face-first onto the marked lines of the recreation area’s basketball court – the seven guards leapt on him, grappling for his limbs. Three men pinned him to the ground while two guards wrangled a wing each, trying to hold them outstretched. After a few brief moments of jostling, scrambling and tumbling, the group had managed to hold Luke’s wings against the ground.
The largest guard shouted in the direction of the doors in the far corner, “Ok guys, we got him.”
The double doors opened wide and two men carrying a large guillotine rushed over to the uncouth bundle of flesh and feathers. The guillotine had been made upon Luke’s arrival to the penitentiary and was slapped together with loose pieces of wood found in the prison’s greenhouse and a machete that one of the guards had confiscated from another inmate’s grievously dim-witted visitor.
The two men on Luke’s left wing slipped it into the guillotine and slammed the lever, sending the sharp blade through the pinion, and showering the feathers outwards across the floor. After the right wing was guillotined into a similar plume of plumage the men released Luke, who stood up, heaving with exertion from the struggle and brushed the fallen feathers from his shoulders and arms. He flexed his wings uncomfortably. The monthly clipping felt similar to when you cut your nails, and everything you touch feels distant and electric. The difference with wings is that you don’t have to touch anything to feel that discomposing feeling, and it usually took about a week for normality to return.

Last time Luke had managed to evade the surprise hunting party as they ran into the rec area in their pruning routine, and sat triumphantly on his ledge for hours, slowly cutting away at the bars while the guards tried repeatedly to force a cherry picker through the impractically small double doors. Luke had almost made it through the third bar using a chisel that he liberated from the prison workshop. It would have been easier had he been born with talons, but unfortunately, while it is demonstrably bizarre that he was born with wings, that is where his ornithological similarities end.

The guards began sweeping up the dirtier feathers, keeping the clean white ones to be made into the quills that over the past six months had conjured a spurious sophistication amongst them.
“Same time in a month or so then, ay Luke?” The largest guard asked.
Luke smiled wryly. “We’ll see, Brian.” Brian returned the smile then turned and followed the others out of the room, swinging his baton with a well-practiced finesse.

A loud and grinding buzz came from the speakers circling the rec area, signalling the arrival of visitors, and the mandatory assembly of prisoners at the front of their cells to find out if anyone in the free world still loved them.

Luke trudged towards the double doors alone. The guards kept a close eye on him towards the end of every month, but without his wings, Luke couldn’t be more pitifully harmless. He retrieved the chisel from his pocket and began twirling it between his fingers, both hoping and dreading that today was the day that Mikey decided to visit.


Stay Tuned..

E. L. Dornbusch..

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Little Girl, You Are So Lost

The sun beat down on the desert path that snaked through a wide thick forest, which was surrounded by an ocean of more desert. Skipping and dashing and spinning her basket, our heroine enters the scene and releases a perfume of lavender into the hands of the desert and jungle. An oasis of nothingness for miles and miles with this hostile heaven bent into purgatory and scolded with the sweet dreams of hell, smack bang in the middle. A solid pond of gas spills into view and mops the worry from our heroine's thought. She casts off her robe, throws her basket into orbit, and dives sideways into the fumes of relief.

And at that very moment, dear reader, our now valorised and vicious villain pounces into view and brings with him the story's complication.

The white monster of legend takes the gown from the ground, and uses his sharp claws to liberate the pretty red ribbon from the basket's accessorial inventory. He uses the ribbon to tie his hair back revealing sideburns that cover his entire body, culminating at either end: a diminutive mohawk, and a diminutive tail.

"Oh little girl, you are so lost."

This reservoir dog chases the lavender scent around the pool of smoke until the follicles of his suit are covered, filled, fixated with our heroine's essence. He picks up the basket in his clutching claws and clambers clamourously over the cleft of calamity and out over the clearance.

And it is here that we discover the predetermined destinies of the delightful duo: a clairvoyance that brings closure to our beloved characters, but forces our instantaneous and eternal departure.

Our heroine finds her true self, her purpose, her sandals. The villain finds the love of his life and sandwiches.

Unfortunately the parcel has been pilfered and the penurious purloiner has perished in his perfect paradise. And as such, the grandmother falls to sleep with nothing to save her.

And now we may only return when the amaranth fades - from pink to an anaemic grey.


Little Red Riding Ethan..