August 21st, 2005

breeden

(no subject)

I like this.

http://www.cbcbooks.org/cbcmagazine/meet/leguin_ursula_k.html

You could say the same about a lot of art, too, which is why I am automatically wary and suspicious of any painting jumping up and down waving flags that say "LOOK AT ME, I'M SYMBOLIC OF SOMETHING!" Nevertheless, I would be a little hurt to think that my art was meaningless, but it's not the sort of 1:1 symbol-to-meaning ratio that I could haul out and say "This abstract spoon is the suffering of women in Walmart sweat shops, and the chicken is capitalism and the moose represents the Vatican," unless I'm trying to be funny.

Needless to say, t'other Ursula (in the shadow of whose name I have lived since I got the Earthsea trilogy at seven) says it better, because she's da man. Which is why, when they read off the roster of Great Ursulas at the end of time, I am aspiring for the number four position at best.*


*The martyred saint and Ursula Andress, before you ask. Which one I was named after depends on which of my parents you ask. Sure, I'd like to think that an artist could eventually surpass a Bond girl, but c'mon, who are we kidding?
breeden

(no subject)

Until about five minutes ago, I had never seen anybody on TV handling a golden mole, which meant I had no idea how big they were. I thought that they were...well...mole sized!

Nope. They're little tiny critters smaller than the palm of your hand. They are eyeless, and burrow through the sand of the Namib desert. And in the way of all very simple-featured creatures, like silky anteaters and muppets, they are painfully cute. (You may need to see them moving around, mind you, since this just looks like a fuzzy rock with a wart, but trust me, the footage of the little things trundling along made me make horrible squeaky noises.)

http://www.orusovo.com/guidebook/images/goldenmole.jpg