Today I learned...

Today I learned that there are metaphysical writings about farts.

One begins -

Le Petomane performed at the Moulin Rouge in the 1890s to the great and good of the day, such as Sigmund Freud, the Prince of Wales, and the King of Belgium. His art was musical farting. He perfected musical farting into an art form. And there are still musical farting performances today. There is an Austrian duet, for example, who dress in formal evening wear with long coat and tails, but the trousers have a discrete hole through which the instrument can be played.
 
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Writing can feel like slotting puzzle pieces together, and that sometimes means across WIPs. Bringing two character perspectives in the same world from two separate short stories into the same narrative.
 
The official name for the BDU button is "type 2 button sewing hole style 26."


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Still conceptualizing difference between writerly questions and sociological ones. Might seem like a false divide. More to the point though, the latter is a pet interest and despite that I have to check the sociology stuff at the door (consciously) when writing, more to keep the inspiration flowing. Pondering story or character matter in a science-y way is all good, though I prefer that to take place before or after the actual writing process, for the most part anyway. Writing, for me, is keeping alive that sense of mystery.
 
I was writing in WIP Two-Headed Shadow this morning. What occurred me during that? Seems to me the introduction of competition between genders has turned the concept of love into a whoopee cushion. It's up to the observer if they think it's a good and a bad thing. Just making an observation.
 
The internet is the new Wild West.
Depends on what you're comparing it to, I guess.

The microcultures sort of vanished along with their unique domains.

Old Internet had that frontier feeling, while most of what we have now (Reddit or whatever) are the ascot animatronics, t-shirts, post cards. It's more broadly pleasant, more muted, packaged like a product.
 
Depends on what you're comparing it to, I guess.

The microcultures sort of vanished along with their unique domains.

Old Internet had that frontier feeling, while most of what we have now (Reddit or whatever) are the ascot animatronics, t-shirts, post cards. It's more broadly pleasant, more muted, packaged like a product.

Broadly pleasant. I have to endure nerds who talk about verisimilitude and what happens to be in their head canon that day.
 
Hmm. I don't think it's possible to compare the internet to anything that's come before, since it's much vaster (and contains much more human experience) than anything else.

You may as well try to contain the ocean in a polystyrene cup. The entire internet cannot be defined or confined by any limits, be it geographical, historical or whatever. It's simply too ... big.

And contains mostly cat videos.
 
Today I learned from TV subtitles that the English word "cement" is called "semen" in Indonesian.

Ah well, to each his own.
 
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"Excuse me while I whip this out." ;)


Ohhh. ;)
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Anyway, something I learned about "Blazing Saddles": when Madeline Kahn came in to audition for the film, Mel Brooks told her that he wanted to see her legs. She was hesitant and wary of the implications, said, "Oh, it's that kind of audition?" and nearly walked out.

But Mel hastened to explain that whoever got the part would have to do a merciless parody of Marlene Dietrich in Destry Rides Again. He also assured her he was a happily married man (to Anne Bancroft) and just needed to confirm she could handle the cabaret-style, leg-centric nature of the parody character.

Madeline lifted her skirt but immediately set a boundary, saying, "No touching".

Mel was impressed, responding, "Oh, my God. You're perfect".

Her portrayal was so convincing as a satire of Marlene Dietrich that she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress.

Blazing Saddles also marked the start of several collaborations between Madeline Kahn and Mel Brooks, which also included Young Frankenstein and High Anxiety.
 
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