A page at the co-op over the intercom last night: “Earth to basement, do we have any CBD oil?”
The answer came – “yes, we keep it under lock and key, come on down”.
Some kind of hush came over everyone and two women shopping next to me exchanged surprised looks and whispered, with apparent reverence – “I didn’t know we carried it!”
I am so ignorant, and I had to ask them to explain what it is and what it’s useful for, and they did.
Emma González, a survivor of the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla., at the March for Our Lives rally. Credit Andrew Harnik/Associated Press
Buzzed: The Politics of Hair | Vanessa Friedman
As Geraldine Biddle-Perry, an Associate Lecturer at Central Saint Martins and the co-editor of “Hair: Styling, Culture and Fashion,” wrote in an email exchange, “For women who voluntarily cut/shave their hair, volition alters the symbolic grammar and so the act functions in terms of female agency and empowerment.”
Which in turn raises the question of whether we are in for more head shaving, and whether that may ultimately lead to a time when, Dr. Vearncombe said, “we will not care about what a woman puts on or removes from her head.”
I’ve known a few women who had it in them to shave or cut their hair super short at least at one point in their lives – they are all very different, and great in their own way, but awesomeness is the one common trait.
Deletist
noun /dɪˈliːtɪst/
a person who deletes their data in the quest for anonymity, privacy and minimalism: paving the way for ethical decentralised systems.
(thanks to Charles Reynolds-Talbot of deletist.xyz)
“If pleasures are so similar, why don’t people ever orgasm from pleasure associated with food or art? Actually some do. According to Debra Herbenick, director of the Center for Sexual Health Promotion at the Indiana University Bloomington’s School of Public Health, eating a ripe tomato or reading nonerotic prose has been reported to provoke an orgasm. So too has walking barefoot on wood floors and doing pull-ups. She cannot yet say why, which lends support to the broader notion that, “There is really so much we as scientists still don’t understand about pleasure.””
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| Heather Murphy, Why Scientists Are Battling Over Pleasure
Art scratches all kinds of itches. | Paul Bloom
All I get from some art, in the right circumstances, is goosebumps.
Not fair.
Vertigo episodes are increasing in frequency enough that they are pretty much non stop. And that’s despite the fact that I’m now getting solid 5-6 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Humans, without a doubt, are visual animals. While we can experience around one million colours, some of them are completely vague in terms of perception and interpretation.
Back in the 1800, William Gladstone noticed the strange facts that in Homer’s “Oddysee”; the sea never actually was described with the world “blue”; next came Lazarus Geiger, who noticed that there is no such word in ancient texts from various cultures either.
Maybe it is due to the fact that in nature, you rarely find the hue; while toilets are displayed quite often, blue as we know it right now is not that common. In 2006, a study by Jules Davidoff, psychologist at the Goldsmiths University, London, found that the Himba-tribe from Namibia does not have a specialised word for blue, either – for them, blue seems to be a variant of green, as tests showed.
Another study from the MIT, conducted in 2007, showed another culture that has different for blueish hues, speakers of native Russian; they strictly divide light blue from dark blue and discriminate between those shades much quicker than English speakers.
Interestingly, the Egyptians seem to have kicked off the process of perceiving blue since they were the only culture of their (long) time that could actually manufacture blue dyes.
At this moment, I want to be in Montreal, in Mile End or Plateau, having a sesame bagel and a coffee, outside, on one of those first tentatively warm spring saturdays when the snow hasn’t quite melted yet in Lafontaine Park, but the old men are already playing pétanque in the corner, and everyone, everyone is out with their friends and small children, I don’t know a soul as usual, but I don’t have to – it’s not my city – I watch and pretend what it would be like to know everybody, and I have my bike and possibilities are endless, and the day will never end.
When you are so sleepy at work that you read KOMMUNINVEST SVERIGE as Kommunist Sverige.
tinfoilparachute 