Aitch-Bar

Writing About (Mostly) Not Astrophysics


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Part of my head

The enigma of Saint James | Sophia Deboick | The Guardian

In the halcyon days of 2005, when Lost & Desperate Housewives were climbing the charts, and Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone was setting hearts alight, I wrote a blog post about a section of a strange old book I have. It details the supposed resting places of supposed sections of supposed saints. That is to say: it’s about religious relics. There are a surprising number of places claiming to posses body parts that were formerly in the possession of god’s chosen lackeys. Or perhaps what I found truly surprising was how frequently they seemed to be near to each other, or were specimens that no one ought to be be curious about, like “part of a head.”

 

the heads of st. james are very numerous: there is one in toulouse, while two are at venice (one in the church of st. george, another in the monastery of ss. philip and james). there are a skull and a vessel of the saint’s blood in the church of the apostles at rome, a head at valencia, another at amalfi, still another at st. vaast in artois, and part of a head at pistoja. bones, hands, and arms of the saint are scattered about in great numbers, and are shown at troyes, in sicily, on the island of capri, at pavia, in bavaria, at liege, at cologne, and in other places. some bones of the saint are shown in the escorial.”

so for those of you playing the home game that’s like 15 whole bodies for one person.

can you imagine the rivalry between those two churches in the same town that both say they’ve got this guy’s head?

 

In the time since I wrote that, all-lower-caps writing has gone out of style, then back into style again, and a digitized version of the book I mention, Curiosities of Popular Customs and of Rites, Ceremonies, Observances, and Miscellaneous Antiquities by William S. Walsh has been made available online.

I was reminded of my morbid interest in this topic recently when I came across Atlas Obscura’s rundown of The Ultimate Guide to Scattered Body Parts which covers some of the same ground, but with a less 1898 point of view.

One assumes that this particular form of historical artifact preservation is a thing of the past, but you never know. Trends have a way of coming back around. There are a few figures from our era that might leave a bit of themselves for future generations to stick in a museum (or whatever the equivalent of museums end up being in the future). It’s well-known that Einstein’s brain was preserved after death, as well as was Ted Williams’…almost. Gene Roddenberry was launched into orbit, and Hunter S. Thompson was blasted out of a cannon. (Maybe someone still has the cannon.) Walt Disney was supposed to have been frozen, but that’s a myth. (A fable as firmly lodged in public imagination as his eponymous corporation’s dubious legal hold over its intellectual properties.) The blood-stained pink Chanel suit that Jackie Kennedy wore to her husband’s assassination is stored out of sight at the national archives, where it could go on display in the year 2103 at the earliest, as long as whoever JFK’s descendants are at the time decide it’s OK.

So having come to the end of this brief list I conjured out of my memory without trying very hard, I’m forced to admit that we’re not really any better than the people, centuries ago, who ended up creating the two-heads-in-a-town scenario from before. I didn’t want to have to hand it to them and their disturbing hobby, but I guess they showed me. Sorry historical weirdos.


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Welcome back to me, Internet!

It’s been a while, online world. I had a ponderously-titled blog called Topography Of Ignorance* over on the blogspot, begun in 2005, but it petered out in ~2008 as grad school became more and more “interesting.” Nowadays, the thought of my many witty observations going unnoticed as Dave’s go ‘noticed’ fills me with dread, so I have forced him to join forces in the form of this blog, a force of verbiage to be reckoned with. Dave’s sperm have already been mentioned, so I think we are off to a pretty good start.

What to say about myself? I’m a gentleman, a scholar, and a third thing which is the punchline of this sentence. Like most other grad students, I’m studying for a PhD because I have no other interests and my underdeveloped social skills preclude my spending much time in non-science situations. “First, master talking to the nerds” I said to myself. I am from Rhode Island, so I’m one of America’s only rightfully discriminated-against minorities. I am studying astronomy, so I’m basically being discriminated against by Congress and the American people the minute they stop looking at photos from the Mars rover. And I have “thinking of the third thing inability disorder” so medical science has it in for me as well.

My previous blog billed itself as “Astrophysics, Esoterica, General Complaints”; though some time has passed, I am still devoted to those 3 things so I’ll try to use this site to provide history’s greatest insight on them.**

*From a Oliver Wendell Holmes Quote, to relate to the everyman

**Intended in the same sense that people use when they refer to the late Kim Jong-Il as the World’s Greatest Golfer.

About to do something awesome?


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Portation

Ryan and I are coalescing into this new, joint blog. We could have used the blog I originally created, but for some reason “davidm.wordpress.com” wasn’t seen to be properly capturing the spirit of community. All 2 of my old posts have been copied over to this site.

We searched high and low for an easy way to cross-post between multiple blogs, but failed entirely. Surprising and disheartening. Time was when we didn’t used to bother with this 3rd party hosting shit; we could code a site up by hand on our home computer, in a day, with all the features we needed, and it’d be bulletproof. That was 2000. Now you install some professional-grade software on a secure machine and within five minutes of going live you have a bug infestation of third world proportions. Or some acne-laden kid in the Netherlands steals your entire computer and repurposes it to spreading propaganda for kitten-eating Nazis, before going out and not getting laid. The Internet seems to have evolved into some sci-fi dystopia where, upon leaving the Google arcology, one quickly perishes from a combination of nuclear fallout and giant ants.

Launch time is always the roughest time for a new venture. Momentum has to keep up or you fizzle. Particularly difficult when you have “things to do” because you’re a “real person.” There is something about long stretches of left-brained work that drains inspiration, and words become the Enemy. I try to keep up because it’s good exercise, and my creative homunculus no longer fits into its going-out jeans. One can always fall back on actually writing about a topic, I suppose. I’ll try to avoid that to the end.


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I Forgot About the Internet

(Ported from old blog)

Twosense, God rest its soul, was scrapped in 2007. Or maybe 2008. It was 200something, a date which it is not anymore. Since then my writing has been confined to social media posts of typical length 1-3 sentences. Sometimes I issue only a single phrase, a lonely participle dangling in the breeze at the end like high-tops hung from the power lines outside some stupid hipster’s apartment. A paragraph is easy. More is not.

Does anyone remember when I won the writing award in 7th grade? I do. This is the single thing that drives me to believe that I too can throw words at the Internet and have them stick in some recognizable pattern. At one point I realized that form holds as much interest to me as content. Sentence construction is an art, and it is one of the few forms of art I can actually feel some appreciation for, philistine that I am. Note that I am not talking about grammar. I have no idea how one is typically supposed to construct a sentence. But there is texture to words, and the best sentences feel like wearing a Snuggie.

To translate, I expect that this blog will be low on meaningful thoughts and heavy on verbiage. To translate again, this will be a blog. Though, it will be a blog on purpose, a blog which is self-aware. A blog that celebrates the fact that it is a blog, and the writer is unimportant.

gg, bbl.