Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why. Kurt Vonnegut

Turning Point, by Donovan Crosby (2005)

I discovered the paintings of Donovan Crosby in a long-winded Google search prompted by the word 'champagne' - you never know where these links will take you. When I am unsure of the image I wish to use on the blog, I type something into Google, hit the first response that appeals to me and then follow links in that site, and so on, until I find something. You can always find something, and I like what leaving things to chance can lead you to. Infinite possibility, the World Wide Wonder Web.

The website I found this picture on, SixSpace, belongs to a gallery in LA. I spent a while just toddling around their website. The websites of art galleries and museums from around the world have become a bit of a procrastination habit of late.

I had the dentist today, which was not ideal for my week off work, but in the end I satisfied myself with the thought that everything is material. It's a strange experience, the dentist. It's so intimate, in a sense. The only others who get so close to my mouth are usually about to put their tongue into it (ideally).

I like my dentist. Not in a kinky way, but in a distantly fond way, as you admire a particular statesman, or historical figure. Although that kind of kick is way outside my boundaries, out of curiosity, are there people in the world who do get off on trips to the dentist? Ah, the sound of the drill.....?

He's an older man, my dentist, South African; and he hums and sings gently to himself as he works. If it wasn't for the social and interpersonal inconvenience of someone continually placing an assortment of odd-shaped items in my mouth, I'd probably find it quite relaxing. Probably.

Another poem today, courtesy of G's desk calendar.

The Stars Now Rearrange Themselves

Dana Gioia

The stars now rearrange themselves above you
but to no effect. Tonight,
only for tonight, their powers lapse,
and you must look toward earth. There will be
no comets now, no pointing star
to lead where you know you must go.

Look for smaller signs instead, the fine
disturbances of ordered things when suddenly
the rhytms of your expectation break
and in a moment's pause another world
reveals itself behind the ordinary.

And one small detail out of place will be
enough to let you know: a missing ring,
a breath, a footfall or a sudden breeze,
a crack of light beneath a darkened door.

I'll have to spend some time with this one, maybe learn it by heart.

My brother came to the dentist with me, knowing I sometimes find it disturbing. After, we drank champagne to celebrate ourselves with and then we played a variety of games on his X-Box 360 - don't ask me what this is, it's a miracle that I remember its name. I beat him at Mortal Kombat, which outraged him, but he beat me at Frogger, which irritated me, so we wound up even.

Later, we watched a film called Ghost in the Shell, an animation based on a Japanese graphic novel. If you like this sort of thing (in spirit and style, it really reminded me of The Matrix, so you might use this as a guide), you're in luck, there's a copy of both Ghost in the Shell and its sequel in Portsmouth's Central Library.

Today's Read of the Day is an entry on someone else's blog, this time Jenny Diski. She's one of my favourite writers and her blog has only been a very recent find. In this post, she describes her reaction to an animated 'game' called Falling Girl. I first encountered this game a year or so ago, when, as Jenny says, the animated character was not a scantily clad girl, but George Bush. It was far less disturbing then, but it remains as alarmingly addictive.

We've heard that a million monkeys at a million keyboards could produce the complete works of Shakespeare; now, thanks to the Internet, we know that is not true.
Robert Wilensky