Wordplay

Just so pretty.

Caitlin Wylde, Artist

Ballerinas (later used in the Martha Stewart wedding issue this spring)

Arne Jakobsen, Cecilie Manz and Kasper Salto (architects and designers)

Tuscany

Photos by Ditte Isager.

After the initial viewing, there was this, which helped to answer maybe ONE of the 11 million questions straining my brain:

“Inception’s Dileep Rao Answers All Your Questions About Inception” (from Vulture blog via NYmag).

And then, there was  “The Neuroscience of Inception” (from Gizmodo via Jonah Lehrer from Wired) because maybe it’s all a ploy by Nolan to make us FEEL as though we’re in a dream state while we’re watching the dream state(s) fold in on each other.

To which my other brother (psychology major and urban development expert) responds via email:

The critical factor here is active vs. passive participation. And with all cinema, the director has 2.5 hr max to convey a complete (or semi-complete) story (or multiple stories) and develop acceptable and somewhat realistic characters. All cinema  inherently includes shallow/one-dimensional characters and extensive incongruity when broken down to individual and separated elements; it is the way a cinematic experience is conveyed to an audience that has no “active” participation. The writer/director must be able to condense and tell a story to mass audience. We as the audience do not have the privilege of exploring or “understanding” the story on our own terms in real-time, therefore we get the “survey-course” version.

And then my dad (rocket scientist extraordinaire) says:

I still think that the most interesting notion is that of shared dreaming.  If it were possible, what would the experience be like?  How could two subconscious dreaming minds share a dream state?  Who would be in charge of the dream world?  How would logical conflicts be resolved?  Could the two dream avatars interact?  Communicate?  Could both simultaneously experience lucid dreaming? Etc.

Talkin’ World War III Blues, last verse:
Well, now time passed and now it seems
Everybody’s having them dreams.
Everybody sees themselves walkin’ around with no one else.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
Some of the people can be all right part of the time,
But all of the people can’t be all right all of the time.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that.
“I’ll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours.”
I said that.

And after a while my little brother (grammar expert) spelled Dylan like dilyn (on purpose? on accident? to demonstrate how an email thread can parallel a dream in which you aren’t sure how to properly attribute quotes to famed 60s singer-songerwriters/reluctant figureheads of social unrest?).

And then I saw this on facebook and thought it was pretty clever:

Fast Company’s trying to find the “most influential person on the internet” this year. Or so they say. The tech pundits are pissed.

Mark Borden/FC defends it like this:

“What the Influence Project aims to do is remove some of the mystery behind the inherent passivity of social network numbers. This experiment will show what happens when an individual takes an audience at rest and applies an unbalanced force–through suggestion, advice or direction–that converts it into an army of action. That’s power that can be quantified and lead to an understanding that can be applied to both the largest and smallest of networks. No doubt it’s profound to address a million followers and get 100,000 of them to respond. But what does it mean when you have one hundred friends on Facebook and 97 of them click through to a site on your recommendation?”

But PSFK says:

“The project reminded us of Don’t Tell Ashton – an interactive social currency project we discussed in May. This project also seemed to depend on human nature – our vanity, egos and need to feel important – to drive participation rates and spread the project’s message.”

And Alexia Tsotsis at the SF Weekly Tech blog puts everyone’s unimpressed comments into her post, most notably, Tamsen McMahon’s (brass tack thinking):

“This isn’t influence. This is an ego trap and a popularity contest, pure and simple. There’s no goal other than click pandering. Already, Twitter is full of people shouting “click on my junk!” and flooding my stream and countless others with nothing more than clamoring for…well…validation.

Influence can be quiet, understated, and wielded with grace. Influence is NOT jumping up and down, begging for people to click on stuff so that they, too, can find the gatekey for their own path to feeling important in the online fishbowl.”

Aw, come oonnn, just let me INFLUENCE YOU. Pay no attention to the endless minutes it takes to load their poorly-designed image well. Click on my photooooo!

Have you clicked yet! Click on my pretty little graphic! Do it! Just look at my influential face, influecning you to!

Or forget this project ever happened and click back to your facebook tab to see if anyone friended you while you were reading my post.

A torched cherry-flavored experiment in gluttony and social networking, the folks behind Hotel Thrillist: Miami surely outdid themselves at the Fontainebleau this month. Is it one of those “you check in, but you never check out” types of gimmicks? No. Does it leave a taste of “Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn” in your mouth? Maybe. Did I secrete Boom Boom for days upon my return to New York? Unfortunatleyslashfortunately yes.

So how does one Hotel Thrillist? Step one: Arrive, fashionably whenever (also good if your plane is grounded thanks to exploding lavatories), inspect swag, tweetle several ridiculous photos of you plus swag plus the Fontainebleau, send your coordinates to Nick McGlynn (photographer extrodinaire) via ESP and have him take copious amounts of useless photos of you holding said swag: For instance HERE, HERE, and HERE.

Proceed to tropical storm cocktail hour by the pool, gale-force winds free of charge and surprise yourself by not hating your first Bacardi Torched Cherry and Coke of the weekend. It helped to brave the storm.

Step 2: Wipe off the Florida rain, gussy yaself, and mingle with some damnfabulous people at the Bacardi sponsored pre-dinner fete. Have yourself another TC & Coke and taste a sampling of Miami’s finest culinary delights: Gotham Steak, Hakkasan, Solo, and the most mouth-watering how-can-you-exist truffle polenta from Scarpetta. (I need you.)

Step 3: Without a 5-hour enegry retailer near by, Boom Boom instead and try to sip another TC&C at Liv, the sparklyest upon sparklyest of the Klubz on the beach. Convenient for us, since it’s in the hotel. That’s a step step, trip trip down the hall, tap tap in the elevator, and another hop, jump, and a trip right to the line (which we skipped). Sup.

Performance by J. Cole.

Step 4: Spend the next day swimming in a sea of TC&C under the hot firey Florida sun. Your options include the pool, the cabana, the other pool, the bazaar, the water slide, and THE ATLANTIC OCEAN. If you need to recover/adjust your pupils to the light, there’s a Bobby Flay-worthy grill challenge happening poolside. If you can bear it, slip on ya Stunnas and get some custom quickie couture from Krel. She fits, cuts, clips, twists, rips, and sews you into an organic creation in less than five minutes. What’s not to love?

Performance by Kat DeLuna.

Step 5, 6, 7, 8 and beyond: Head to Red Steakhouse, where they may/may not have great steaks, but they sure do have great desserts. Hide your Harry Potter-esque magically-refilling glass of TC&C  from the tornado lightening, watch a capoeira troupe beat their drums, talk to a parrot, beware the fire dancer, befriend a baby gator (get a lil nostalgic about college), and do your best at battling any self-esteem issues you may have as an onslaught of sex-personified Miami Heat dancers surprise everyone with a jig.

Retreat to Fontainebleau for a–suprise!–TC night cap (no longer an informed decision of your now cherry-tinted taste buds, but a good vs. evil-esque battle between common sense and the Bacardi gods, which you are shamelessly losing) , a little star gazing, and a greater admiration for everyone that invited you there (don’t they work hard!).

Post Hotel Thrillist? Go home and follow all your new friends on twitter: @DevonGiddon @BoomBoomBaby @Marv_Carbonado @Bespoken4 @AsherT @Boehmcke @EmilyGannett @sheerling @chumiston Or just THIS WHOLE LIST.

Miss you, Miami!

(photos by Nick McGlynn/Random Night Out and my polaroid camera…or something).

I:

Posed for a photo at the Buzzfeed office-warming party:

Caught a screening of Sex and the City 3, courtesy of HP and their SATC2 collaboration (hence the HP photo lab pic):

Started a link list on Delicious, you know, just for fun:

Saw GLEE Live! at Radio City, where I was surprised with a signed photo from Lea Michele–a gift from a coworker. Simply delightful.

Sipped some alchemist drinks at the Manhattan Cocktail Classic. DElish. Yes, it was THIS kind of party.

Started DIGGing, as per a work-related request. Social media is, like, hot right now…or something?

Compiled all the HOT social media in a Flavors.me account:

And drank endless buckets of Torched Cherry Bacardi at Hotel Thrillist Miami, this past weekend in south Florida. Many thanks to the folks who made THAT happen.

Coming up? REST.

The dashing Christoph Neimann (who made these fun LEGO creations), drew some maps. Not a real map, you say? Well then what’s a map if it’s not showing you where you’ve been or how you got there?

More marvelous maps here: NYT Op online.

Or just skip to the source: christophniemann.com

Tara and her biffle, Bella. Because if an elephant and a dog being besties is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

This is just one of those journalistic examples of how to find a great story. Because if you come across a Tara and Bella just ONCE in your life, well, you’ve done it. This is GOLDEN television, Steve Hartman. Thanks for that slap in my cry bone. Thanks a ton (elephant joke).

Why,  oh why, couldn’t I have found one of these REAL GOOD chairs on the streets of  New York? Orange, please. Thank you.

Blu Dot Real Good Experiment from Real Good Chair on Vimeo.

What a tiny city! (The process of tilt-shifting isn’t just for the insanely talented. Do it to your pictures in a cinch.)

Oh, just wishing for spring on this cold, blistery day:

The Sandpit from Sam O’Hare on Vimeo.

Amazing Obliterati photo booth thanks to Diana Levine. She’s legit. Like Kim Kardashian legit. Thanks for this.