There and back again.

So, we went to New York, and in so doing saw almost everyone who reads this blog. Including Tom's parents, to whom I say hi. Tom's grandma, who liked my shoes, probably has better things to do than read blogs, but in case someone can pass the message on, hi to her too.

As every good tourist in New York does, I spent most of my time in museums. Having said my piece to most of you about the MoMA (I loved Richard Serra, mostly, but alos the exhibition on the nature of painting), and the Guggenheim (where the permanent collection plays Uncle Monty to the temporary exhibition's Withnail), I then went on to the Met and the Natural History Museum. To the chagrin of Mrs O., the Met also has a stunning collection of modern art. But also lots of big old things. The American Museum of Natural History was the surprise hit for me, though. To understand how deep dinosaurs are engrained into my psyche, you need to hear the anecdote about my nine year old self giving an impromptu guided tour of the Natural History museum in London, picking up strangers on the way. This was a phase I thought had passed.

I was wrong. What I needed, though, was an adult museum for the child paleontologist in me. The top floor is a giant cladogram: a chart detailing evolutionary paths. Here's me standing in front of a small section of it:

Basically, if you have any level of (non-professional) interest in prehistoric life, you can indulge it here. Each taxonomic group has its own computer terminal where you can explore the development of each distinguishing feature. Sorry if I've gone on about it, but it made me wonder if I shouldn't have gone with that nine-year-old's gut feeling.

I also saw a model of Dunkleosteous:

On the way home we were upgraded to premium economy (which means that each time you ask for one drink, you get two, and that you get reasonable leg room), the moral of the story being, never underestimate the navy blazer.

When we got home, our luggage didn't; alway put your keys in the hand luggage, people.

Now I'm home, I hope to get Project Sakrileg off the ground; any badgering will be much appreciated. As a token of thanks to anyone having read so far along, here is a video I found linked from Graham Linehan's Blog:

You get the impression they'd have like Jack Black to front this, but couldn't afford him. Fun nonetheless...

Earth Intruders

Last week I went to my first festival: the Paleo in Nyon, near Geneva. This is what I have learned:

1) A man selling 500 dollar panama hats at a festival is unlikely to be doing much business
2) I look stupid in a typical British festival hat
3) Festivals in Europe are not like Glastonbury (at least, like my conception of Glastonbury). Case in point: at least five stalls selling distincty non-hippy-food in the form of Foie Gras.
4) Arcade Fire are amazing live: any band that has a pipe organ installed on stage is O.K. by me. (Look, you can see it just to the left of the hurdy gurdy!)

5) If there's a crowd three times as big as you expected to see the headline act, go around the side, because apparently your average festival goer only things in one dimension, which is "forward, grr, hn".

6) Bjork is also amazing live. And is secretly Spiderman

7) It is nigh-on impossible to sleep in a tent, wrapped in an emergency foil blanket, while Francophone amnesiacs play thumb pianos and yell all around you. Fact.

Is there something quite unusual about this man?

Today's task: try to imagine this happening on a modern day TV channel. Possibly hosted by Dale Winton, with Gilbert and George as the guest...

And Mrs O, too

Following the Herd

The most ill-judged music video in history

Update: I now recall that this is not the first time I've posted a video for this song.

Most disturbing. What I'd like to see now is mix of these two videos.

Or maybe, almost at the end of the first video, another "maybe there's another way" moment,
and then just start the second video.

*Tumbleweed*

Sorry all has been quiet here of late; all the words my keyboard can muster have gone into finishing two papers. The second was submitted yesterday, and in time honoured tradition I now have a miserable cold and am unable to enjoy my freedom.

Many of my readers will have heard the following (perhaps more times than they would like, in one case) but this is my first experience of the original. At least, I assume the version I know hails from down Ealing way...

Ezra Pound reads Canto XLV

What I particularly love is the seamless transition from fire-and-brimstone hectoring to parish priest wittering as the canto ends and his commentary begins.

And just as it all seemed too highbrow:

New year, new things: Neuendingedämmrung

OK, first things first: quite so that Tom suggested the Herr Flick dig, and I staunchly refuse to accept the bare-faced truth that the resemblance is more than passing. More of that in updates to the post below. Now back to our scheduled programme:

So, what's small, hairy and has eight legs?

Nope, not a bird-eating spider

(picture removed to spare the faint of heart
*looks in vague direction of Ealing*)

But these guyswho were proving quite difficult to photograph yesterday morning, and had to be coaxed into an area of light using a laser pointer. On the left, you can see Scrumpy, who is a miniature Schnauzer mix, and on the right Porter, who is a German Shepherd/Dachshund mix.

These are our dogs.

We've had them just over a week now, and they are providing us with headaches and smiles in equal proportions. They're both two-and-a-half years old, and we have taught them to sit. We have emphatically not been able to teach them to walk, dutifully, by their master and mistress, and some bugger clearly taught them how to dislocate the wrists of anyone foolish to hold their leads before we got to them.

Nevertheless, they are a welcome addition to the Omission family, and no doubt will feature in many of the forthcoming updates to this blog.

New Year, new stuff: third time's the charm

New Hat:(also new gloves). Bought from the Red Cross around the corner for about a pound. Is soft felt on top, so at a moments notice can become a plausible bowler, in case I need to persaude the Swiss I am a London banker.

In a change to the advertised schedules, tomorrow will be the last in this series. Appearing will be the answer (well, an answer) to the following riddle: what is small, hairy, and has eight legs?

Meanwhile, I have a new hero:



Update: By way of preemption Before this goes any further , I look nothing like this in my new getup:
-- Herr Flick has, incidentally, really let himself go since the war.

Further update and actual preemption: Before someone launches germanswhowearhatslikerichards.blogspot.com, I am also trying to imitate neither scary plastinating Gunter von Hagens nor bonkers artist Joseph Beuys:



Besides, all these Germans are wearing Fedoras, whereas my hat is a homburg.

New year, new stuff: Secondary phase

True to my word, here is another new thing I have:


This is my new camel leather manbag, which carries my important musings on the polytime completeness of soft linear set theory wheresoever I go. It does not, as feared by some, smell bad. It smells of nice leathery things.

In other news, last Friday was the Decemberists concert in Fribourg. My enjoyment was magnified by the presence of Sam Smiths Nut Brown Ale behind the bar: a more Decemberists drink this side of an absinthe and arsenic martini I can't imagine. The gig was great fun, and ended with a re-enactment of the foundation of Switzerland (sort of-- I don't remember chickens or the Ottoman empire having much to do with it). The band were obviously a bit worse for wear, and the gig had, in the words of Colin Meloy, "an odd flavor -- sort of like eating a lychee. It's difficult to peel, it tatstes odd, but you like it."

New Year, new stuff: Part the first.

Well, I'm back from my extended jaunt hunting pheasant, and am now ready to rejoin the world of the digital passer-of-time. I thought I'd begin by making a record this week of the new things that have passed into my life since last we spoke. One a day. For the whole week.

One post per day. For a whole week.

Breathe...

So without further ado, I present Omission's Monday edition of Things I Now Possess That Make Me Happy: My new Global Vegetable Chopper:

If your only experience of knives had been this guy, your vocabulary would not include the phrase "like a hot knife through butter. It would instead contain "like a knife through onions" or "like a knife through the skin of a pumpkin" or "like a knife through my finger bones". Do yourself a favour. Get a really sharp knife.

Other nice knives I saw on my travels included Chloë' and Ed's new cheese knife, on which note and imperceptible segue, thanks to them for a lovely stay in London.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's exciting installment!