http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:Talzhemir1&section=today deviantART RSS for by:Talzhemir1 en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Thu, 03 Dec 2009 04:39:59 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/27868862/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/27868862/ Tue, 20 Oct 2009 09:40:56 PDT
I tell myself it’s just my imagination. I’m a rationalist. Still, it’s hard to argue with a gut feeling so strong I don’t want to put my feet on the floor because there might be more than shoes under the bed. Me, a grown woman!

As a clothes designer, I can usually avoid these problems by staying at home. I used to have to go to fabric warehouses, and that was a trial, with all those prints and draperies.

Things have changed- I’m a “big name” now, and they send boxes of samples to me. Last year, we even took over the design of most of our own fabrics.

Twice a year, though, I still have to travel to big cities- old and famous ones, the ones that were around during the Black Plague. My ‘condition’ especially kicks in when I’m in one of those old hotels.

Thinking to do us a favor, the company’s travel agent puts us up in hotels that don’t just contain antiques, they are antiques. You don’t have to be a leading fashion designer to see they have a talent for awful carpeting and even more hideous wallpaper.

Every lobby is made of dozen different kinds of marble and the wainscoting is a festival of hand-carved ‘baroque’ ornamentation. If I am lucky, there will be a marvelous crystal chandelier. I look up and see mesmerizing rainbow glints from the facets. Sitting in some big wing-chair, I won’t have to look down. If I do, pretty soon I’ll be seeing, not floral motifs, but some Green Man or gargoyle leering up at me.

This time we are staying at a hotel in New York for the event now called Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. “Fashion Weeks” (they are held in several major cities, around the world) come twice a year. The most prestigious are in Europe, and to some designers, New York is “slumming it”. As for me, personally, I find America’s east coast exhilerating.

This event is to be a Spring show. I live an upside-down world where the spring line is shown in the fall and the fall line is shown in spring. It is our only chance to find one more way to convince the stores’ buyers that there is something special about my brand’s shirts, or skirts, better than all the other shirts and skirts out there.

If I have to set those shirts and skirts ablaze and send the models down the runway with smoke and flames on the them, I’ll do it. Actually, I did that last fall, and a few of the models swore they would never work for me again. I can’t blame them. Nobody was hurt, but they could have been, and burn scars don’t go over well in the modeling business.

I pay well, and models dedicated and brave enough to work with me enjoy an extra-special reputation. Just this once, I had the magazines asking us to arrange photo shoots for them, for free. With the clothes on fire, of course. That’s a great boon; my company usually pays hundreds of thousands of dollars for full-page ads in glossy color magazines.

After all this hype, though, most buyers are skittish and cautious. They’ll wait two or three years to see if what I created, actually sells, in the most expensive boutiques. My first sales will be to mavericks; it takes a maverick to get their attention.

That’s why designers have to have a lot of money. The company has to run for three years before what was displayed makes anything back. It’s not enough for my name to be on the fashion world’s lips for a year. I’ve got to do the same thing every year.

The very best part, for me, is working with the runway models. Except for being gorgeous, they’re all so different. Physical beauty can develop in someone poor or rich, slow or clever.

Much of the preparation can not be done in the hotel. We own a special trailer. Inside is a row of salon seats, sinks with running water, and mirrors. The vehicle is huge but there’s two attendants for each model (except Janine, who will need three), so it is very cramped.

Today’s efforts begin at 10 a.m. with waxing. Every shin, every armpit, and then every eyebrow, is painted with the hot gluey stuff. I let one of the makeup artist do my eyebrows, too. There’ll be a few cameras focusing on me, too, as the designer.

As the little strips are yanked away bearing unwanted hairs, we all bear our discomfort stoically. It doesn’t really hurt that bad; the beauticians are merciless, swift, and professional. Nonetheless, the momentary festival of ouchies is almost a bonding experience.

From down at the end of the row of seats, I hear a tiny muffled yelp escape from behind a hand. It seems someone is not used to having their legs waxed.

To be a model, you have to be willing to let people press cloth to your body... ]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/27868728/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/27868728/ Tue, 20 Oct 2009 09:28:36 PDT
Toku’s things are very comfortable, cleverly reinforced to last a long time. Alas; double seams at the shoulders and crotches reinforced with gussets aren’t exciting. It really takes a clothing designer to appreciate what he’s showing us. The consumer won’t even notice until five years later, when that shirt with the Toku label is the only one left without a rip.

This year Toku’s models are wearing enormous comical paper mache heads while wearing sober work clothes. The audience watches, politely clapping a little, but clearly perplexed. He gets my sympathy.

By contrast, my Carmen’s casual entrance gets an appreciative murmur. She’s nearly flat-chested and she wears a hospital bandage dyed dark pink for a “top”. Small wings on at the backs of her shoulders move as if alive. Her strange woven hood hair makes people grin. She does a graceful circular kick, showing how the drawstring pants with V-shaped notch above the fly let her move freely.

Next, Sashi makes her runway modeling debut in just a long sweater that looks like it’s made of moss and bark. Cat ears are securely affixed to her hair. The earthtone zigzags on her face make sense now that she’s some kind of forest creature. A tail with a fluffy tip waves in her wake, thanks to robotics and a titanium frame inside. She jumps and kicks both feet out like a cheerleader.

Meanwhile, with practiced moves, they attach orchid-colored wings to another model (her name is Ishtara). Ishtara’s considerable hours practicing with a spare pair pays off as she comes out. Now she looks as if she was born with them. She stretches out with her fists, as if she just woke up, and the wings go out too.

The other models take their turns until, at last, it is Janine’s time. The lighting shifts and, unnoticed by the audience, a black carbon-fiber boom with counter-weighting is swung out high above the tongue-shaped stage.

Janine is wearing a very light large silk poncho, split in front, as a robe. On her feet are boots with small fluttering wings. Reaching the end of the runway, she casts the beach cover aside, revealing silk shorts with slits up the sides and a blouse that is a miniature version of the poncho.

Instead of turning, she keeps walking for the edge of the stage, and walks right off the end. She keeps walking, the winged shoes somehow keeping her in the air. She walks up invisible stairs, in a curve.

Janine’s harness is supporting by a main wire to the front of her pelvis and two other wires, one behind each shoulder blade. Made of actual spider silk, each of those three strands is as thin as fishing line. They are covered a special light-swallowing black pigment. Janine’s rig accounts for a third of the money invested into this show.

It takes a moment for the buyers to accept that Janine is apparently walking on air. Then, they burst into heavy applause. Yes, Janine’s years of gymnastics, dance and karate are all being put to wonderful use. I look away from Janine to see their faces. They’re amazed, and smiling. They can’t wait to tell others about what they’ve seen!

The bright lights shine so that the audience can’t see the “wires”. They just see Janine ascending on the air above their heads, towards an area of bright stage lights. As Janine is about to run out of auditorium, Dorothea’s voice says quickly, “Snuff it in five. Five. four. three. two. one.”

The lights are cut; Janine is quickly brought back to the ground behind curtains. She’s just earned an extra twelve thousand dollars on top of her usual substantial fee.

Now carrying bouquets of tiny nearly-weightless battery-animated butterflies on invisible memory-wire, the models take a curtain call together.

I don’t see Janine in the assembled group. “-where is she?” I say into the headset.

Dorothea replies, “David said she wasn’t feeling well. She said she was walking back to her room.” The hotel rooms are two blocks away. We have to vacate this area; we can’t spare anybody to bring her back.

Very annoyed, I spit out a couple of swear words. Hearing that, Dorothea steadies me with a good-humored, “whoa.”

Some of the models are carefully extracting themselves from the less comfortable things they are wearing, like ballet-slippers tipped with half-meter stilts.

I know that the least comfortable get-up is Carmen’s. When I look over, I see she is still wearing her wings, and demonstrating them for a fashion magazine reporter who has somehow made her way into the backstage area. Ordinarily, I might chase the reporter off, but today’s her lucky day.

I quash my irritation and say, quietly, “How’s it going, Carmen?” and force myself to... ]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/27730082/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/27730082/ Mon, 12 Oct 2009 16:22:14 PDT In the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, a bloated bulgy body loomed. Justine looked at herself in despair. She mumbled, "My head is shaped like a marshmallow..."
On her way to bed as well, Justine's mother overheard. For the hundredth time, Julie told her daughter, "Honey, you're beautiful." She knew that Justine would cry herself to sleep tonight. This scene, or a close variant, usually repeated itself about once a month, like clockwork.
"Mom... I really need surgery." Justine was not a whiner, and she tried to pitch her voice as mildly as she could, but the edge of despair kept creeping in.
Julie said, predictably, "Why? Because you want to look like a model? They have eating disorders; they're not normal. When they look in the mirror, they see themselves as fat, when they're not."
"Mom...? I'm _not_ normal. I weigh fifty-two pounds more than the next heaviest girl in class. I'm fifty-three and a half pounds more than the third biggest."
Julie rubbed her temples, as if Justine was provoking a severe migraine. "Justine, you know you're not old enough."
Oh joy, Julie thought to herself, 'The Esteem Issues' again. Justine had them every month. Julie trusted that, given a few days, Justine would forget about surgery. Justine was able to hide her distress better after a day or two, so Julie assumed she forgot about it. It was just "teen hormones", not a 'real' issue.
This time, for once, Justine was not going to back down. "I'm seventeen and a half. I've never had a date because boys haven't looked at me since I was twelve."
When Justine's body had started developing early, her female classmates had talked enviously about how she was getting real boobs.
They spent the next year secretly stuffing tissues into their training bras (except for Justine, who didn't have to). She could remember them trying out Bollywood and MTV dance moves at slumber parties together. She could remember when she thought her body looked really good. For all of a year.

2.
They had tried going to therapy three years ago. The therapist had reassured Julie that Justine was a fairly typical and mentally healthy girl.
Julie was relieved to learn that crying yourself to sleep did not necessarily mean Justine needed pills or more therapy. The psychiatrist had told Mom that Justine's problems were physical, but that she would like to continue working with Julie. The sessions were very expensive, and Julie had declined the invitation.
"Let's go to the gym together." Julie had announced two years ago. "A little mother-daughter time; we can get in shape."

3.
Justine was enthusiastic but she was out of breath five minutes into the "Cardio-kick" class. It was quite a bit more rigorous than the casual gym class at Justine's school. A painful stitch formed in her side. That was followed by nausea. Justine tried hard to keep a smile on her face but it wasn't possible.
Meanwhile, even though she had a desk job and never exercised, Julie seemed to have no problem keeping up with the instructor.
About fifteen minutes later, Justine whispered, "Mom- I have to go to the bathroom!"
Frustration set in, and Julie snapped, "That's the sorriest excuse for getting out of a little exercise I have ever heard." Julie excused them from class; the instructor nodded in a friendly fashion. From over behind a screen, though, the pair could still be heard tensely arguing.
Then, Justine broke into sobbing as she realized she had no bowel control. The contents of her insides were liquid and running out, hot and burning, into her sweat pants. Tears were running down her face.
Not sure if Justine was doing this crazy thing on purpose, Julie at least got them out of there quickly. She made Justine sit on some old newspapers and the ride home seemed to take hours although it was only eight minutes from home.

4.
After The Incident, Julie and Justine had just gone out for morning walks together. They talked quite a bit. Early on, Justine asked, "What was my father like? ...was he fat like me?"
"He was a wonderful man."
"But, was he fat?" Justine persisted.
"He was 'heavy'," Julie admitted. To tell the truth, she actually did not remember him so well. She had had several boyfriends, one after another. Ethan had been a pleasant friendship but they had drifted apart, and not unhappily.
When Justine was three, Ethan had died, leaving the family quite a bit of money in a bank account, in a trust fund.

TO BE CONTINUED...

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/26478699/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/26478699/ Sun, 09 Aug 2009 07:15:11 PDT
When I prepare something juicy like a pineapple, the juice runs off the edge and onto the counter. I have one with a juice-catching groove and it doesn't hold enough liquid.

When I chop several ingredients that need to be used at different stages, they need way too much room to keep them apart. I want some little troughs to keep them in line.

Most of all, I'd like it to have some character, something friendly, familiar and cheerful, encouraging me to be industrious. How about a big happy bird face?

Here's the design:
[link]

(Here's the matching Mr. Raven String Holder: )
[link]

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/26478613/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/26478613/ Sun, 09 Aug 2009 07:07:33 PDT
Peppers 'n' celery:
[link]

While it's true that, with modern trucking, we *can* have sweet peppers fresh year-round, the price over the past years has had a tendency to soar during the winter months.

I only use tiny bits of sweet pepper; the flavor is very bitter to me. Still, there's a lot of foods that wouldn't taste right without it. Better for me to chop it up and dry it, than to use just a chunk and have to throw the rest away.

Celery, on the other hand, is gold. It puts a savory heartiness into many dishes, from humble chicken soup to a queenly roast eggplant with browned onions and breadcrumbs. I can go through a lot, and dried celery is insanely expensive.

I never did this when I lived in Michigan. Celery is a cold-loving plant that would keep on growing in a bucket of sawdust in the basement, and we always had some fresh. It would turn an anemic chartreuse yellow but a day or two in the windowsill perked it right up. A tiny sprinkle of powder of beeswax in the water speeded this up.

So. Where's my knife...

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/25548018/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/25548018/ Thu, 25 Jun 2009 17:28:47 PDT July 13, 2009 The Elephant Trunk has been placed and approved! So, anybody who wishes can visit.

[link]

=========

I want to celebrate the Waco and Gault mammoth discoveries. To do this, I am going to place a Geocache.

Geocaches are Tupperware-type or ammo-can boxes hidden on public lands. They are part of a game that anybody may play, a sort of international treasure hunt. They are not buried, so the land is not disturbed. They may be hidden amongst rocks, bushes, and so forth. They may be cleverly camouflaged as rocks, stumps, etc.

To find a Geocache, you need a GPS (or somebody who HAS a GPS). If you have an iPhone, you can get a GPS application for it, so that the iPhone functions as a GPS. It can bring you to within 20 feet of the coordinates.

When you find the box, there is a log book with a pen and you should sign it. (You also note later that you found it, at Geocaching.com.)

Geocaches are to be filled with brick-a-brack. Never anything too valuable (no money), and no food. It's like secretly looking through somebody else's kitchen drawer! Here is the best part: You may take any one trinket, but you have to also leave one trinket.

So, what will I put in this Geocache, to start it out?

Well, many mammoth tusks are being mined in Siberian permafrost. The bodies are not so well preserved as to be worth studying. Artisans make their tusks into carvings, pistol grips, knife handle "scales", and so on. When they do that, they cut off a lot of little scraps.

These little bits should not go to waste! I'm going to attach them to small educational cards, and turn them into Geocaching paleo-prizes.

So, the first N people who find this Geocache will have the option to take a fragment of actual mammoth ivory home with them, to keep (or, when they get tired of it, place in an entirely different Geocache!)

More info to follow, as I work on acquiring an ammo can. When it is ready, I will post the GPS coordinates both here, and on Geocaching.com.



PREVIOUS UPDATES:
=========

UPDATE: Monday, June 22, 2009
Mammoth ivory arrived by mail.

=========

UPDATE: Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I've cut the scraps into neat little pieces:
[link]

The Geocache now has an official name: The Mammoth Trunk

UPDATE: Thursday, June 25, 2009
Went to N.S. Army/Navy Surplus on N. Lamar in Austin, Texas. Finally got an "ammo can" for $7.95.

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/25386765/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/25386765/ Thu, 18 Jun 2009 04:10:15 PDT
(a reconstruction, Wikipedia: [link] )

The last of them probably died out around 9000 years ago. That's well within the 12,000 years that humans lived at the Gault Site near Jarrell. So far, only one mammoth tooth was found at the Gault Site, so it's not clear if they dared to trouble the mammoths.

That Columbian mammoth was on the menu, however, is now well-established. This Wisconsin site dates back to 12,000+ years.
[link]

-----

I am, at this moment, sitting about 100 miles due south of Waco, Texas. Between there and here, Interstate 35 runs north and south. It's a reflection of an elongated north-south region called the "Prairies and Lakes" region of Texas. I-35 is better known to the rest of the world as a part of the legendary Chisholm Trail.

(There's a map on Page 3 of my .PDF posted here on Deviant: [link] )

About 125 years ago, Missouri cattlemen, resentful of the ticks and diseases allegedly carried by the hardy Texas Longhorn breed, banned their passage through Missouri. So, to sell their livestock, Texas cowboys pushed tens of thousands of head of cattle all the way to Kansas. It was a heroic feat for the cowhands, but a tragic end for the cows, of course, who ended up on trains to market out east.

Going back at least 40,000 more years, a number of Columbian Mammoths enjoyed the streams and lakes of this area. At least one herd died in a flood, forming the amazing Waco Mammoth site. That's about an hour and a half from here.

Since its discovery in 1978, about 25 intact skeletons have been found, including elephants very young and very old. This was originally thought to be a single die-off event, but it's more likely the result of several. The tips of bones and tusks indicate many more mammoths are yet to be found. There are also bones from sloths and saber tooth cats.

[link]

The Waco Mammoth Foundation would like this site to be a part of the National Parks Service. It could be part of a building that houses an interpretive museum exhibit. It is under consideration for federal funding, and could become "the LaBrea of Texas".

A mere five miles away, the Mayborn Museum, of Baylor University, is exhibiting a replica section of mammoth bones at a replica of the paleontology site safely indoors (and out of the 100 degree summer heat!).

[link]

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/24372534/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/24372534/ Wed, 22 Apr 2009 06:38:01 PDT Follow me on Twitter; my page is here! [link]

*****

Years ago, a friend took me to see the Fate Bell shelter. It's a site close to the border of Mexico but on the Texas side. Stone ledges form natural overhangs that made great camping spots. Dating of artifacts shows it was in extensive use 9000 years ago.

Web pages I found automatically portray the site's decorators as superstitious wackos obsessed with "a shaman's journey through the underworld". It's based on an assumption that all humans thousands of years ago were obsessed with that theme. Thank you oh so much, Joseph Campbell.

I think imposing a view that its enigmatic emblems must depict religious themes is silly, and leads to wild misinterpretations. Familiarity with the life of people who lived back then is more likely to hold the key to understanding.

Here, a mountain lion is automatically interpreted as "a shaman" "in their feline incarnation"... Is that a mighty power animal discovered through ordeal and mystic vision quest... or just a skinned ground squirrel? The shamanistic view prejudices interpretation.
[link]

There's lots of evidence the Fate Bell people made an alcoholic beverage out of sotol and yucca type plants. The discarded nibbled-on leaf bases are all over. No sign of anything heavier, though (no pipes, peyote buttons in bags, gourds of jimson weed stew, nothing) at that location.

I've also read web pages claiming that the cave's illustrations are merely drug-inspired lunacy.

Oh, maybe.

Or maybe they were alot like us-- they just liked to get together, have a beer, throw pointy sticks, and dress up.
[link]

If you would like to visit the "White Shaman" site, you can find maps and more here.
[link]

My favorite picture there is a humanoid figure with wings. I recently went through my collection of pictures of the other rock paintings around it.

If you didn't know about atlatls, what might you guess that this picture shows?
[link]

Fortunately, we have some astonishing intact finds from caves, so we know for sure that atlatls often had a pair of loops at the base:
[link]

To have any hope of understanding what we're seeing, we have to be familiar with the things of a world 9000 years ago.
[link]

Sotol
[link]

Mr. Sotol Dude at Seminole Canyon maybe?
[link]

Fireplows
[link]

Mr. Fireplow Guy at Seminole Canyon maybe?
[link]

Are these mystical spirits like the ones the Kachina dancers portray? Or are they just whimsical and affectionate (and somewhat bizarre) personifications of food, like Mayor McCheese and the Golden Chick mascot?

We may never know, but much of what's drawn at Seminole Canyon is fairly literal, not necessarily abstract or anthromorphic.

That said, here are some pictures from the shelter, along with some photos of what they might be refer to.
[[See Next Entry]]
[link]

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/23250171/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/23250171/ Tue, 17 Feb 2009 09:18:35 PST
1. Cut a 6" X 17" strip.

2. Wrap it around a can.

3. Pinch the bottom in four places. Fold them into the middle, in a pinwheel shape. Press them to fit the dome-shaped dent on the can.

4. Take the paper off the can. Fold the edge inwards.

5. Fill with soil.

6. Plant seeds. For tomatoes I favor about 1/2 potting soil to 1/2 sand.

7. Use a plastic bag in a shoebox as a caddy.

8. Mix 1 tsp. of 3% Hydrogen Peroxide mixed with 1 quart water. Water each can-cup with about 2 Tablespoons.

9. Cover loosely with saran wrap or loosely fold over bag.

10. Place on top of fridge for 8 days.

]]> ~Talzhemir1 http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/17244235/ http://Talzhemir1.deviantart.com/journal/17244235/ Sat, 08 Mar 2008 17:34:04 PST
Thanks for taking down your extremely offensive picture of me!

It's truly refreshing when somebody realizes their own bigotry, and retracts a hostile and ridiculously untrue statement.

Your humility, maturity, and sincere respect for the feelings of others is a shining example to all furry artists. Your tolerance for those whose opinions differ from your own, without a shred of self-righteousness and insecurity, amazes us all.

Love,
Talzhemir

]]> ~Talzhemir1