Happy VD!
Happy Valentine’s Day Donnie & Oscar!
— M.E.G. (Mars Explorin’ Girl)
Happy Valentine’s Day Meg, Izzy, Ysidora!
I’ve just added a 19th Century .Re/cipe 🙂
OSCAR YOU PSYCHO!!! GET YOUR SCISSORS AWAY FROM DONNIE’S HEAD!!!
Oscar, my friend, I reckon you are to surgery what the Swedish Chefis to cooking…
Neither Oscar, nor Donnie ever call me anymore. What’s up with that? I hope it’s not because of that Tilly Losch chick! What’s she got??
Oh?
She doesn’t speak?
I always forget how infatuated Dummies are with the sound of their own voice!
Narcissistic bastards.
Oh, come now, Ellie. That’s a bit harsh! You can’t bully folk into correspondence. We’ve had a lot of stuff going on in the past week: Donnie was having nightmares about Ysidora and then his head fell off…Do you know how difficult it can be to reattach a head? And as for treating his nightmares…Well, as you can imagine, Donnie tended to seek comfort in a substance that, rather than soothe, seemed to amplify his fears.
I’m quite tired right now.
I’m sorry Oscar. We’ve already had this whole conversation and I already know you don’t like me that way and I thought I’d moved on, and honestly IDK what’s wrong with me. Gawd! I’m such a jerk! Feel free to just mute me or whatever. Or, haha, I guess you already did!
IDK, I think I’m just lonely or bored or something. I’m sure I’ll get over it. I should get a hobby. Or maybe a cat.
Oh, and I hate to ask, but if you could stop calling me “Ellie,” my name is Meg.
Dearest Meg Ellie O’Ryan, I’m really confused here…
Is “muting” the equivalent of online sulking? If so, well, no, I definitely don’t want to “mute” you and I wasn’t deliberately avoiding you or ignoring you I was, just as I mentioned, otherwise occupied. (Crash course in First Aid. Further on this anon). You are absolutely not a “jerk” – you are full of fun and an insatiable curiosity about life and this is wonderful.
With regard to the Ellie/Meg issue. I remember confiding in you that I wished “for purely practical/physiological reasons”, you were called Eliie” (this is an easier name for a vent doll to say). You replied that your second name is, in fact, Ellie and that I was welcome to address you as such. As this seems to no longer apply, I will, of course, address you as Meg. (Unfortunately, this sounds more like “Neg” from the mouth of a ventriloquist doll).
I need to…er…tape up a few things here. But I’ll be back later 🙂
I have finally been granted the ability to speak for myself here. This is ALL I EVER WANTED: to speak for myself.
I am terribly glad to be here with you all. Thank you for existing. I’ve been following your adventures and conversations and discussions for weeks now, and I am looking forward to sharing some reports from my own pilgrimage — and, of course, to hear more about yours. Perhaps we shall even create some new adventures together? I can only hope.
Saludos Cordiales,
Su Comadre, Ysidora Pico
Welcome Ysidora!
I don’t know another way to say it, but I probably had an easier life than you. Although I did die at 34, so you may have lived longer. And the last 2 years were sheer terror at the hands of my misogynist / misanthrope brother. Finally, 11 years after my brother Francesco murdered me, my more pragmatic brother Ferdinando murdered him.
When Ferdinando turned in his Cardinal’s hat to become Grand Duke of Florence, the greatest wedding, the greatest Medici spectacle, the biggest Theatrum Mundi Florence had ever seen, his marriage to Christina of Lorraine (granddaughter of Catherine de’ Medici) was organized as a year-long event.
In many ways “The Medici Wedding of 1589” was the pinnacle of theatrum mundi. I, of course, had been gone and as forgotten as Francesco could make me, for 13 years by then. But I’d always been the Medici who organized plays, events, carnival floats, commissioned music, and celebrated the creative arts in so many ways and brought so much joy and entertainment to the court and to Florence. 1589 was so me. And yet it wasn’t.
So too, we’ve all been here prattling on both without you, but also because of you.
Perhaps it is not the builder’s place to live in the homes and cities created by their impulse. I appreciated the end of the film Bugsy, where he is unceremoniously murdered for his failure, and then the screen wipes to show the money, power, and spectacle of the modern-day Las Vegas that his vision built, but that he never set foot in.
Ysidora, you’ve been haunting my dreams, kid. Good to see you here in the flesh!
In the flesh???
Well, geez, if you were composed of a wooden head and a cartoon body, you’d understand “the flesh” as a fairly loose concept…
Dear Isabella, Such a sad paradox about 1589 being so “you” (so because of you) and yet you were not there to enjoy the fruits of your labors–and MURDERED!? ¡Ay, Dios mio!
Thank god I was not murdered. But, my son Chico was, the grief of which murdered my husband’s and, soon after, my heart. Although, we were pretty old by then, too, so….
And what IS it with the domineering brothers? Mine (Pio and Andres) married me off to an Anglo as a way — they thought — to protect their property interests in the newly created Alta California — when they KNEW that I was not a fan of marriage. I mean, I was 30 when I was married — in 1836. Clearly, I was not on the marriage plan, but my brothers had other plans for me.
I really like the metaphor about the builder not being the inhabitant of the home she builds, although it was her impulse that caused the building to be built in the first place. My granddaughter is a teacher, and this is similar to the way her profession works.
Also, Mr. Donnie, you have been dreaming of me? de veras? What portents have those dreams revealed?
You know Ysidora, I think the phrase “Bun in the oven” sums up so much of the human condition. Men are “intelligent” beings. Women are ovens. What else do we need to know?
Who gets to live in the house is a funny question. As a princess in 1550 I enjoyed so much privilege that almost no one in my time ever did. Yet a poor person in 2014 has so much that a 1550 princess couldn’t even dream of.
You know what’s fascinating? The disintegration of the concept that time is a line. It’s wonderful that in 2014, we can speak with our voices from 1550, 1850, 2050.
The idea of a time line seemed at first to me a lie guarded and promoted by murderers and thieves and power mongers — “don’t look back,” they seemed to say, “because then we will have to grapple with the destruction we’ve left in our wake.”
I wondered, Why not imagine how to order time more from our observation of nature; for example, why are the models for how we live not like a blossom that loses its petals not one by one, not in a linear fashion, but rather in clusters, dumping out its heart as it reaches for the sunlight, as it draws up earth’s moisture through its roots? Why do we not mark time as the sea does: eternal waves swelling and breaking one after the other, sometimes more, sometimes less? Is it because we don’t know how to depict this motion?
Is each lifetime a wave in a sea? Is each wave a moment in a life?
These are the kinds of things I thought about while I was growing toward my 30th year, where I thought I was safe from marriage. Instead, in my 30th year, my cultural life replaced my natural life: I became a mother to three children, Marcos, Chico, and Juanon. My days were in no way linear — they were for a long, long while merely endless repetitions of the same thing over and over — feeding and cleaning, cleaning and feeding. Once the boys could clean themselves, it was feeding and educating, educating and feeding.
Having children reduced my poetic questions to a reality of drudgery. I realized that the idea of linear time is thrilling: it provides hope that things will change, that one’s conditions can change.
And, of course, we change and change and change and then we die. What’s thrilling is that I have come back to life! It defies my imagination, but apparently not enough to stop me.
Hi All, I’m coming to the party late. And now that I’m here a little slow to get going. It may be at the tail end of the industrial revolution but I’m still a bit of a ludite. Anyway with party in mind the least I can do is bring the beer.
Beer? Hi Patrick! You run a pub? Oh wow! Donnie is going to love you!!
But watch out for that Oscar, I think he’s a prohibitionist!
I kind of thought Donnie would be more of a U2 kinda guy… but he totally blew me away when he took me to see Tupac!
Donnie kicks ass!!!
“Sourcing components”, Donnie? That’s a very 21st Century turn of phrase…
I’m a forward-thinking kinda guy, kid.
Donnie’s so hot! A mind for all ages!
Geez, Oscar…
No, no, Donnie. Nothing to do with me!
OMG Oscar pranked Donnie!! ROTFL!!!
Maybe we could have a “Draw Donnie a Body” coloring contest!!!
You guys crack me up!!!
Aw, Meggie, you gotta be the cutest gal I know!
TY Donnie! :+}
If you like that… check out my new Facebook profile photo!
https://www.facebook.com/margaret.oryan
Hello children! I’m little Meggie’s Aunt Renie! I’m not sure if I qualify for #1850charla since, so far, I’m still alive! But believe you me, sometimes I feel like I was born in 1850! Have a wonderful week kids!
OMG Auntie! I’m so glad you’re here! I need your advice! My love life sucks! (again!)
Why do I keep falling for Dummy’s auntie!? What’s wrong with me??
So, first, I meet this guy Oscar. He’s SO cute! And then he tells me I’m not “Meg” anymore, that from now on I will be known as “Ellie.” kk, maybe that was a little “I-will-remake-you-into-my-ex-wife”-ish, but he was a really cute guy and I thought he really liked me and so I was cool with it.
Then around Christmas I sent him a love letter. (scented, even!) And then he’s all cold and like “Well I’m sorry Ellie, but I just don’t like you that way.”
WTF!?
So then I meet this other Dummy, Donnie. He’s really hot. Like hot-hot-bad-boy! I think he’s actually Oscar’s cousin or uncle or I’m not sure what. Anyway, Donnie’s WAY less uptight than Oscar. I’m pretty sure Oscar must be a member of the conservative party, and Donnie, well, I think the only thing he’d do in a voting booth is urinate in it! Crazy times with Donnie!
So I thought Donnie was gonna come visit me and I waited all day at the SYD arrival gates (same place where I picked you up when you came to visit, remember Auntie?) and anyway I just stood there all afternoon holding this stupid sign that said “Donnie.” And he never showed up! Now he’s just, like missing. Where the hell are these guys? What’s wrong with them?
What’s wrong with me?
Am I coming on too strong auntie?
Am I making poor choices?
Am I seeking out destructive relationships?
Am I afraid to be happy?
Help me Aunt Renie!!!
Oh my poor, dear Meggie! I’m so sorry to hear that those Dummies don’t appreciate your beauty. If they have eyes at all they must see your outer beauty, but perhaps their souls are on other journeys and this is not the time for them to consider the depth of your inner beauty.
I hate to seem opportunistic about your bad fortune, but you’ve inspired me to finally do something I’ve been saying I’d do for the whole 2 years since I retired.
It’s true! I’ve finally opened my advice column, Dear Aunt Renie so if you, or any of your friends would like to come by, I’d be pleased to consider all questions and offer the best wisdom my years can provide.
Am I the only one who, when trying to talk like 1850 takes all the contractions out? As if people in history didn’t use… my apologies… as though they did not use contractions?
Dearest, perhaps you are. Donnie slurs a lot, but I’m not sure that counts as contracting speech.
Oh, I’d figured the style was rather more a consequence of Izzy’s breeding. You know, the language of the Italian Court – as in the “Queen’s English”, the (King’s Italian). As we know, the Queen has limited access to apostrophes and avoids truncations in her palace 😉
IKR! Contractions are a small move toward vernacular speech and away from formal speech. Although I’m not sure if I avoid contractions for ancient “royalty” as just a simplification of any “ancient” speaker.
Ysidora my BFF!? RU out there? How do you use language??
Here is an interesting project, an episode of Downtown Abbey (I don’t watch it, so I don’t really “get” the story in this guise) as it might appear on FB.
http://happyplace.someecards.com/28889/downton-abbey-facebook-recap-season-4-episode-4
OMG Donnie, Oscar, do you know this guy? What une mécanisme!
Geez Tony, I was wonderin’ where you were hangin’ out! Great to see you turnin’ your tricks, kid. Trapeze, eh? I can still hear the applause for your tight-rope act in Niblo’s Garden…or was that some other guy?…
Hello Charla-tans. I have been thinking about the idea of myself being in your time. Am I presenting a 1564 mind in 2014? Am I contemporary? Where if anywhere do I exist? I’ve made a few notes:
http://mediciprincess.com/medici-feminists-medici-misogynists/
Charla tans! You are so money genius.
Interesting article about selfie’s by Jerry Saltz– Interesting to consider how we craft identity.
NOW CASTING!
Hey, #1850charla is coming! Anybody want to play:
• Troilo Orsini – my hot boyfriend
• Paolo Orsini – my overweight, in debt, violent husband
• Lenora Toledo – my friend, cousin, sister-in-law & fellow uxoricide victim
Hello #1850charla‘ers! I found a nice tool for diagramming your (homicidal or otherwise) family. It’s called “PeoplePlotr.” They have various pay versions, but the free version seemed to do everything I wanted. It seems like a good way to organize the sprawl of humanity.
• peopleplotr.com/plot/entry/13099/Medici-Family
Fascinating Family Trivia:
My lovely brother Francesco sanctioned the murder of not one, but two Medici princesses by their husbands. On 11 July 1576 my friend, cousin, and sister-in-law Lenora was murdered by her husband Pietro, and 5 days later on 16 July 1576 I was murdered by my husband Paolo. Good times.
I sure hope Donnie arrives on this flight! You don’t think that tiny crack in the fuselage matters, do you? Travel as a disembodied head must be precarious. I sure hope Donnie’s ok and that my Tree Surgeon friend can help him!
Sweet Meggie, you’re breakin’ my heart, kid. I ain’t on that plane. I just dunno how to reach you, sweetheart. Geez, Meggie, it looks like you live in some kinda perfect, magical world: all those clean lines and…how’d y say it – rendered? – yeah, glossy rendered surfaces…and I just dunno how to get my…er…well…my head around it…Aw, Meggie, I’ve got tears in my eyes. I feel like I’m really disappointin’ you kid. I’m real sorry I’m not there, kid. Real sorry.
I know Donnie. The airline gate agent couldn’t find you either:
http://megoryan.me/post/74949112373/looking-4-donnie
But please don’t go to Oscar’s quack in Paris. He will bring you no peace. I’m certain of it.
For Ciara, Donnie and Oscar (and the other anthropormorphic forms interested).
http://boingboing.net/2014/01/27/big-mouth-heavy-doody.html
Fantastic! It’s excellent. Thank you, Molly!
Whaddya mean: “Fantastic! Excellent!” It’s tragic! Woeful! THEY BURNED THE PUPPETS DAMMIT!! Was there a Medici patron of NBC?
cackles
Yep. I’m back. PTL, Meggie. PPPPPTL! (Geez, that Timmy guy wouldn’t give over on the subject!)
Oh Donnie! I’m so relieved to see you! Or…well…part of you, at least…. What happened to your new body, Donnie?
Well, kid, you were right. I got stuck. I was trying to – how d’ya say it? toggle? – yeah, toggle, between one thing and another and that darn cadaver got trapped between the pages. I spent the whole goddamn weekend trying to wrench myself outta there and, in the end, my only chance of escape was to leave the thing behind…
Donnie, drink makes all of us philosophers! Good to have you back; although without a body, you’re brain’s in danger of getting wet even faster. You need filtration for the fire water!
Christa, I missed ya!
Ossssar says he’s gonna get me ‘nother body. Dunno where he got the last pile o’ bones from but I sure hope he’s shoppin’ somewhere else this time!
Get off the sauce Mr. Donnie. You are not a child anymore. You are a grown man. Well, a grown head anyway. Get off the sauce. It will be the end of you even swifter than my father’s furnace. Consider yourself warned.
Linda Liukas’ blog references a project, “Imagine Finding Me” by Japanese artist, Chino Otsuka who creates imaginary meetings between her past and present self.
According to Otsuka:
“The digital process becomes a tool, almost like a time machine, as I’m embarking on the journey to where I once belonged and at the same time becoming a tourist in my own history.”
Thanks so much for this post, Claire! I’m excited to follow Otsuka’s work.
Oh, dearest Meg, given Donnie’s unfortunate penchant for the drink, it is more likely that he would be cast as the criminal rather than the witness in need of protection!
However, thank you for this image – it may, in fact, provide a good lead. That Timmy chap might know something. Indeed, he may be hiding something…
I hear you Oscar my friend. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something about that pinstriped suit that I just don’t trust…
I hope you find Donnie very soon! (or that he turns up in Sydney! 🙂
Hmm… maybe I should write “DONNIE” on a piece of paper and go stand at the SYD Arrival Gates?
Donnie is Missing…
I’m sorry I’ve been so inattentive to the postings over the weekend. The truth is…I’VE LOST DONNIE!! I’ve checked what have become his usual haunts: here (http://practicebased.re), Twitter (@DonnieArcher19C) and email (19thcdonnie@gmail) but I can’t find any recent traces of him around any of these…I’m worried that, encumbered by his new body (and, yes, I’m partly responsible for that gift), unfamiliar with his new weight and proportions, he’s somehow managed to get himself stuck somewhere…
Meg, dear, have you encountered him on your travels? Izzy, you haven’t tried to…er…pull him in into line have you? Ysidora, is it possible you may have accidentally frightened him off?
If anyone has seen or heard from him over the past couple of days I’d really appreciate any information that may give me some clue as to his present whereabouts. With thanks and concern, Oscar.
I did wire him a Cathay Pacific flight coupon for a trip to Sydney… could Donnie really be on his way??
Please Oscar, I’m not that cruel! I didn’t incinerate your ancestor! (though my father would have! 😛
Maybe he is stuck somewhere in the Southeast US. People here are going bananas because we are dealing with ice (something we rarely deal with). Schools have closed, parents are going nuts because their kids are home all day, accidents are piling up as naifs try and navigate icy highways — many for the first time ever! It’s — as my daughter might say — “cray cray” down here. Donnie might be taking advantage of the mayhem to get lost in the wintry mix! (I love getting lost in strange places; maybe he’s like me that way?)
Hey Oscar, I was looking at this conference and thought of you:
http://avoiceandsomethingelse.tumblr.com/
Meg, thank you for pointing my attention to this conference on the voice – I wish I’d been able to attend. I hope there will be follow-up online.
Back then I had everything, except freedom. Now I have nothing, save for freedom.
I like to think I have decayed with dignity.
Your slave in perpetuity,
Izzy.
I’m really fascinated by the way in which the distributed authoring process is playing out in “1850 Charla”. I’m thoroughly enjoying the experiment: watching the characters evolve, nurtured by their interactions with one another, slipping with ease back and forth in time and space…
(On a side note, I discovered a curious linguistic connection: “A Chara” is used as an opening salutation in letter writing in Irish (as in “Dear such and such”))
I quite agree Ciara! And this is all leading up to the 28 February “Live Tweetchat” I believe? So perhaps that day will be even more festive. Will others be joining our performance? Is there any ideal number?
Hi Ciara. Thanks for chiming in! Please consider joining us: we’re warming up here, flexing our chops (or choppers, in the case of Donnie) for the February 28 #1850charla on Twitter. You can find the “official invitation” over in the .Re/cipes. http://practicebased.re/cipes/product/1850-tweetchat/
Also, love the linguistic connection you brought up.
A Chara Christa, I’m here already, riding on the diagonal frock coat tails of another/s 🙂
Oscar 05:39 on 14/02/2014 Permalink |
Thanks, Meg! On a technical and professional note – how did you attach your head to the robotic structure? Solder? Sellotape?
Meg O'Ryan 08:09 on 14/02/2014 Permalink |
Sellotape? Oscar, just because Donnie is from the 19th century, it doesn’t mean you have to operate on him with 19th century technology!
Two words my friend: BALL JOINT!
I’ve put up complete details for you here.
ysidorapico 19:28 on 19/02/2014 Permalink |
Querida Meg, I was just at Mars myself! Dancing! I’m sorry I missed you.