Photographs. Anecdotes. And observations on Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

"The Placebo Effect."

"In most cases, the larger the pill, the stronger the placebo effect. Two pills are better than one, and the brand-name pills trump generics. Capsules are generally more effective than pills, and injections produce a more pronounced effect than either. There is even evidence to suggest that the color of medicine influences the way one responds to it: colored pills are more likely to relieve pain than white pills; blue pills help people sleep better than red pills; and green capsules are the best bet when it comes to anxiety medication."

Excerpt from The Power of Nothing by Michael Specter.

Friday, December 9, 2011

War is the most concrete thing there is.

Nowadays in Sarajevo death is all too easy to imagine and is itself continuously, intensely present, but back then the city was fully alive, both inside me and outside me. Its indelible sensory dimensions, its concreteness, seemed to defy the abstractions of war. I have learned since then that war is the most concrete thing there is, a reality that swallows all, easily overriding any other mode of existence and levelling both interiority and exteriority into the flatness of a crushed soul.

Excerpt from "Mapping Home" by Aleksandar Hemon.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Untitled: January Ninth, 2000.

Through the fog, driving
My hands smell of salt water
The grit between my fingers
As if I had swam today
But it is my own precipitate:
Sweat, old sweat.

The fog comes and goes
A wind tunnel
But there is no sound of wind
But rather music, faint, crackling
A bass tone, drowing out
And the fog comes again.
I pass through.

Walt Whitman visited me in a dream.
I told someone sitting beside me
That he had lived through the Civil War
Like I lived through the fog.
Walt Whitman looked at me
his outdoorsman yet feminine beard
was grey and he had a lisp.
He said: "I stop somewhere waiting for you"
But all I found was the fog.

The fog deep in the ins and outs of others
Those like myself who had
"Had the experience but missed the meaning."

Fog is in the inside of the telephone wires
A sigh on one end
The mumbling of words that cut on the other
Like a car passing through the fog
Or a boat like an arrow.

M.C-Journal entry, 1/9/00.