Who else here has a list (I mean an actual, tangible, ink-on-paper list) of places they want to go and things they want to do/see before they kick the bucket? Anyone? Care to share?
Near the tippy top of my own list is a visit to England specifically to witness massive flocking formations of starlings over the moors in the West Midlands. Hundreds of thousands of them gather each year to tumble together through the air at dusk, swerving suddenly, veering arbitrarily, always in perfect unison, never colliding, sometimes for hours before coming down to roost for the evening. Birders travel from all over the world to observe the phenomenon. Scientists have been studying their swarming behavior to develop artificial technology:
Before I die, I must see this with my own eyes. International Coilhouse field trip, anyone?
Happy birthday to Augusta Ada King, Countess of Lovelace, patron saint of computer programmers. “The Enchantress of Numbers” was born this day in 1815, in London, the only legitimate (tch, what an insulting term that is!) child of Lord Byron. Her mother, Isabelle –a math whiz in her own right nicknamed “The Princess of Parallelograms” by P.M. Benjamin Disraeli– separated from Byron shortly after Ada’s birth, and raised her to be unlike her eccentric poet father, emphasizing tutelage in music and math. (Ada never met Lord Byron, who died in Greece, aged 36.)
Ada Lovelace is best known for her work describing the Analytical Engine, an early mechanical general-purpose computer conceived by mathematician/inventor/philosopher Charles Babbage. Today, she’s recognized as the “first programmer” for her work on the computing machine that Babbage hadn’t even built yet. Unlike Babbage or anyone else, she had the foresight to recognize the potential for computers to evolve past simple calculations and number-crunching. Her voluminous notes included predictions for future developments as far-out as computer-generated music! She accomplished this in an era where, to put it gently, noblewomen were not encouraged to engage in such rigorous intellectual pursuits.
Like her father, Lovelace was headstrong, prone to fits of melodrama, and she died young. Her family buried her next to Lord Byron in the yard of the Church of St Mary Magdalene in 1852.
Sophie Lancaster memorial at WGW. Picture by Tania Taylor.
Two teenagers aged 15 and 16 were sentenced to life in prison yesterday for the murder of Sophie Lancaster, age 20, last summer in Bacup, England. The teenagers, along with three others who received shorter sentences, singled out Lancaster and her boyfriend Robert Maltby for the way they dressed. They initially attacked Maltby, but turned their aggression on Lancaster as she tried to protect him. The gang “punched, stamped and jumped” on Maltby and Lancaster’s heads until both were unconscious. Robert Maltby survived, and Sophie Lancaster died a few days later.
Sophie, Robert, and the two principal attackers
I’ve been following this story ever since it broke, and its tragedy really hits me with the following 5 quotes:
“Shall we batter him?” – One of the attackers, right before the attack began
“I’m not going to get done for reporting this am I? Because all the Bacup lot will hate me because I’ve reported it.” – Girl who called the police to report the incident
“At least wild animals, when they hunt in packs, have a legitimate reason for so doing, to obtain food. You have none and your behaviour on that night degrades humanity itself.” – Judge Anthony Russell QC, passing the sentence
“I really just like to think I’m now only eight-months-old. I’m finding the whole world a terrifying place.” – Robert Maltby, who has no memory of the incident
“Justice can never be done because it will never bring her back.” – Sophie’s mother
“The gentleman who has the pleasure of tying the final bow owns you.”
– Mr. Pearl, interview
What strikes me about fetish legend/corsetier Mr. Pearl’s images is how much he looks like a true English gentleman – and how, magically, his 18-inch corseted waist works to enhance that image, the opposite of what one might expect it to do.
Mr. Pearl grew up in South Africa and moved to London at the earliest chance after completing his military service. He spent three years in New York in the early 90s, where he did his most intimate published interview, of which there are few. Already a renowned tightlacer by this time, Pearl treated corsetry with such reverence that he insisted on precision in every aspect of his involvement with it; when his New York interviewer described him as a corsetier, he interrupted. “Forgive me,” he said. “I am a designer who employs the corset and lacings into his designs. I am not a corsetier – I have not attained that specialized knowledge. There are only about five left in the whole world now, who possess that art. I hope one day to be amongst them.”
Fast-forward to the 2000s: Mr. Pearl is a successful corsetier, commissioned by Mugler, Lacroix, Galliano and Gaultier when they need a master to produce their corset designs for the runway. Clients include Dita, Kylie Minogue and Jerry Hall. He lives in Paris, and works out an atelier behind the Notre Dame.
Despite his success, Pearl doesn’t have a flashy website. There’s no web store to offer plastic-boned corsets that bear only his name, no MySpace page and no blog. He’s known for his aversion to modern technology, and his only web interview was handwritten and transmitted by fax.
23 years ago, twelve strange children were born in England at exactly the same moment. 6 years ago the world ended. This is the story of what happened next.
Thus kicks off Freakangels – comrade Warren Ellis’ new webcomic. Wonderfully illustrated by Paul Duffield, this much-anticipated creation reared its rusty, dusty post-apocalyptic head today and I couldn’t be more pleased. The teaser art looked promising and I’m happy to see the style, color and detail carried over into the actual comic.
The imperfect heroine, her tiny steam-chopper, and an eerily silent London are introduced in cold muted colors of early morning light. It’s satisfying to see the steampunk aesthetic carried over into a future rather than past, and I’m digging the plot, as well. Not to mention – telepathy! Well done, gentelmen.
WEST YORKSHIRE, England – Tasha wears a collar with a leash that her fiance Dani holds when they are out walking together. For this reason, a bus driver has denied them service, saying “no dogs allowed” – and allegedly pushed them off the bus.
It’s ironic that same land that gave us Siouxsie and Fat Bob is now one of the most dangerous, discriminatory European places for goths to inhabit. Last year, 20-year-old goth girl Sophie Lancaster was beaten to death for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing the wrong clothes. A goth guy collecting charity while dressed as Nosferatu was violently beaten by a group of up to seven, his prosthetic ears ripped off. These attacks, perpetuated by yobs and/or chavs, are one thing, but this kind of treatment by a public servant is something else entirely.
The story was covered by The Daily Mail, England’s more conservative, right-wing newspaper. Some of the reader comments are rather hilarious. Here are my top 3 favorites, for various reasons:
He looks like a work-shy scrounger to me, get a job and pay your way.
– Harry Basset, Whitby
Never mind walking the dog – with a figure like Tasha’s she’ll soon be on the catwalk.
– Sarah, Belgium
If he was a gentleman goth, he would loan her his coat.
– John, United Kingdom
Though I’m 100% with them, the couple gets points taken off for giving stupid quotes to the media. Don’t say “I am a pet” to a reporter for a mainstream news outlet. Just don’t. (Thanks, Catwalk Ghost!)
