<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:08:07.709-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DYSTALGIA</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-2051778823648074310</id><published>2007-10-16T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T00:05:17.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiet days in Dystalgia...</title><content type='html'>This old grey mare definitely ain't what she used to be. And I am not referring to myself... Where is everybody?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-2051778823648074310?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/2051778823648074310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=2051778823648074310' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/2051778823648074310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/2051778823648074310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/10/quiet-days-in-dystalgia.html' title='Quiet days in Dystalgia...'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-5294846964782643389</id><published>2007-09-29T01:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T11:44:02.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quantum Psychology and Nonlinear Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rv4SMHUhY0I/AAAAAAAAABc/PvdXkiI3Gpo/s1600-h/300px-Schr%C3%B6dinger_cat.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rv4SMHUhY0I/AAAAAAAAABc/PvdXkiI3Gpo/s320/300px-Schr%C3%B6dinger_cat.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115546226072314690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terence McKenna wrote,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Imagination being the deepening involvement of the species with things beheld but not actually existing in the present at hand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you search &lt;a href="http://deoxy.org/"&gt;The Deoxyribonucleic Hyperdimension&lt;/a&gt; for quantum time you will find &lt;a href="http://deoxy.org/watch?v=" q="quantum%20time"&gt;Irreversibility,  Time Reversal and Generalized Entropy&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you search for quantum memory you find the essay "&lt;a href="http://deoxy.org/timediscontent.htm"&gt;Time and its Discontents&lt;/a&gt;" By John Zerzan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can quantum mechanics explain the &lt;a href="http://quantumenigma.com/nutshell.html"&gt;enigma of consciousness and time&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In quantum physics, observations not only disturb what is to be measured, they produce it. Is the act of conscious observation and re-visitation &lt;a href="http://linas.org/theory/quantum.html"&gt;creating Time itself&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time exists because we are &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality_tunnel"&gt;aware of it&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if this makes any sense.  Richard Feynman once said, "Anyone who claims they understand quantum physics, does not understand quantum physics." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was just something I smoked&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-5294846964782643389?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/5294846964782643389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=5294846964782643389' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/5294846964782643389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/5294846964782643389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/09/terence-mckenna-wrote-imagination-being.html' title='Quantum Psychology and Nonlinear Time'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rv4SMHUhY0I/AAAAAAAAABc/PvdXkiI3Gpo/s72-c/300px-Schr%C3%B6dinger_cat.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-8961042880041368555</id><published>2007-09-29T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T01:09:21.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nostalgia: 1770, "severe homesickness" (considered as a disease); the main modern sense of "wistful yearning for the past" first recorded in 1920.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 2px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Spring and Fall: To a Young Child&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 2px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 100%;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Márgarét, are you gríeving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Over Goldengrove unleaving?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Leáves, líke the things of man, you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;With your fresh thoughts care for, can         you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ah!  ás the heart grows older&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It will come to such sights colder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;By and by, nor spare a sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And yet you wíll weep and know why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Now no matter, child, the name:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What heart heard of, ghost guessed:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It ís the blight man was born for,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 4px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It is Margaret you mourn for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 2px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 2px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="margin: 0pt 0pt 2px; word-spacing: 0pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 100%;"&gt;           &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;                             &lt;i&gt;Gerard Manley Hopkins &lt;/i&gt;(1844-1889)&lt;/span&gt;                         &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-8961042880041368555?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/8961042880041368555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=8961042880041368555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/8961042880041368555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/8961042880041368555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/09/nostalgia-1770-severe-homesickness.html' title='nostalgia: 1770, &quot;severe homesickness&quot; (considered as a disease); the main modern sense of &quot;wistful yearning for the past&quot; first recorded in 1920.'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-7458907666220206681</id><published>2007-09-29T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T00:26:53.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>negative feedback loop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rv36xnUhYzI/AAAAAAAAABU/LAsoJ_NnQzo/s1600-h/quantum.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rv36xnUhYzI/AAAAAAAAABU/LAsoJ_NnQzo/s320/quantum.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115520482038342450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Googling things like "nonlinear time" and "negative feedback loop" in an effort to bring quantum physics into the discussion somehow (not that I know shit about it), I came across &lt;a href="http://www.patentstorm.us/patents/5231481-description.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. Somewhere in my scrambled brain, I see this as akin to a nostalgia-machine, perfecting the imperfect just-past. But is the making (and patenting) of the machine itself dystalgic, or perverse, or just practical?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-7458907666220206681?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/7458907666220206681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=7458907666220206681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/7458907666220206681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/7458907666220206681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/09/negative-feedback-loop.html' title='negative feedback loop'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rv36xnUhYzI/AAAAAAAAABU/LAsoJ_NnQzo/s72-c/quantum.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-3855318867477987462</id><published>2007-09-19T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T12:38:11.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Utopie</title><content type='html'>From our friend Channing:&lt;br /&gt;This should go to the dystalgia blog. It's what the french thought the&lt;br /&gt;year 2000 would be like in 1910 -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://expositions.bnf.fr/utopie/feuill/index.htm"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://expositions.bnf.fr/utopie/feuill/index.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This link also showed up through another friend on a discussion group I am part of, and  it makes me wonder about the attraction to things like this. I think it may be dystalgic, indeed, perhaps because there seems to be so much hope and expectation inscribed in expressions and ideas such as these. It's not that they are naive; quite the opposite. Maybe we don't see ourselves as having that kind of hope or imagination for the future. I myself have become increasingly afraid of the future, envisioning it mostly as a bleak wasteland populated by sociopaths. But this is not a platform for discussing the future, so I will leave it at that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-3855318867477987462?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/3855318867477987462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=3855318867477987462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/3855318867477987462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/3855318867477987462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/09/utopie.html' title='Utopie'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-2839511614262042446</id><published>2007-09-03T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T21:26:03.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Madmen for Dystalgia</title><content type='html'>Style screams, defining relationships acted out between the sexes. Style does not illustrate an idealized moment set in a 1960 Manhattan ad agency, but reprimands the desire to live in that moment.  In this scene watch Pete and Peggy as he tells his dystalgic story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="500" height="438" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3e19210ba363173" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v3.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D03e19210ba363173%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331656031%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DE0ADB29193A27BE1A1F0261A7A47C042690675C.9C74FE9969CD60F1887C972C51A47C01B44AF87%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3e19210ba363173%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DR7pfnkJv7V6pdRH2b0H5mjhIITI&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="500" height="438" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v3.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D03e19210ba363173%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331656031%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DE0ADB29193A27BE1A1F0261A7A47C042690675C.9C74FE9969CD60F1887C972C51A47C01B44AF87%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3e19210ba363173%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DR7pfnkJv7V6pdRH2b0H5mjhIITI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are bodies and TV is TV.   Looking at Magritte’s Not To Be Reproduced (La Reproduction interdite), which is a painting, we are not part of the moment being depicted, but can watch and reflect on what we see and say based on style and space. Both Madmen and the Magritte put us in our physical and emotional present.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-2839511614262042446?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=3e19210ba363173&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/2839511614262042446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=2839511614262042446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/2839511614262042446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/2839511614262042446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/09/madmen-for-dystalgia.html' title='Madmen for Dystalgia'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-7933503951876886969</id><published>2007-08-29T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T20:14:29.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You could really be a Beau Brummell, baby, if you just give it half a chance.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RtY0-nj2BuI/AAAAAAAAABE/1aWE7gs1NRc/s1600-h/miller:rimbaud"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RtY0-nj2BuI/AAAAAAAAABE/1aWE7gs1NRc/s400/miller:rimbaud" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104325478046893794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-7933503951876886969?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/7933503951876886969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=7933503951876886969' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/7933503951876886969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/7933503951876886969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/you-could-really-be-beau-brummell-baby.html' title='You could really be a Beau Brummell, baby, if you just give it half a chance.'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RtY0-nj2BuI/AAAAAAAAABE/1aWE7gs1NRc/s72-c/miller:rimbaud' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-506230496838309463</id><published>2007-08-19T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T19:20:37.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entertain by Sleater Kinney</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rsj53Xj2BtI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-DrYY1FvRTQ/s1600-h/sleater-kinney1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rsj53Xj2BtI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-DrYY1FvRTQ/s400/sleater-kinney1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100601307609564882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rsj4Enj2BsI/AAAAAAAAAA0/K83WaRlWAo4/s1600-h/sleater-kinney_the-woods_b0008fpiou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rsj4Enj2BsI/AAAAAAAAAA0/K83WaRlWAo4/s400/sleater-kinney_the-woods_b0008fpiou.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100599336219576002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An anti-dystalgic song? "Nostalgia, youre using it like a whore"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you want to be entertained?&lt;br /&gt;Please look away (Don't look away)&lt;br /&gt;We're not here 'cause we want to entertain&lt;br /&gt;Go away (Don't go away)&lt;br /&gt;Reality is the new fiction they saw&lt;br /&gt;Truth is truer these days, truth is man-made&lt;br /&gt;If you're here 'cause you want to be entertained&lt;br /&gt;Please go away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your art is done, Johnny get your gun&lt;br /&gt;Join the rank and file, on your TV dial&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You come around looking 1984&lt;br /&gt;You're such a bore, 1984&lt;br /&gt;Nostalgia, you're using it like a whore&lt;br /&gt;It's better than before&lt;br /&gt;You come around sounding 1972&lt;br /&gt;You did nothing new with 1972&lt;br /&gt;Where's the "Fuck You"?&lt;br /&gt;Where's the black and blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey! Look around they are lying to you&lt;br /&gt;Can't you see it's just a silly ruse?&lt;br /&gt;They are lying, and I am lying too.&lt;br /&gt;All you want is entertainment,&lt;br /&gt;Rip me open it's free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! If you want to take&lt;br /&gt;a shot at me get in line&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! I've had all my&lt;br /&gt;shots and I'm fine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! If you ahven't had&lt;br /&gt;enought of me, get in line&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! You too deserve&lt;br /&gt;it now, it's all right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! We can drown in&lt;br /&gt;mediocrity, it feels sublime&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! It feels like someone&lt;br /&gt;pushed rewind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! Give it to me easily,&lt;br /&gt;my feeble mind needs time&lt;br /&gt;1,2,3! Make it sweet and&lt;br /&gt;syrupy with rhyme&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Dont drag me down,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not falling down)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grip of fear is already here&lt;br /&gt;The lines are drawn,&lt;br /&gt;whose side are you on?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-506230496838309463?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/506230496838309463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=506230496838309463' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/506230496838309463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/506230496838309463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/entertain-by-sleater-kinney.html' title='Entertain by Sleater Kinney'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rsj53Xj2BtI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-DrYY1FvRTQ/s72-c/sleater-kinney1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-4575675623162097332</id><published>2007-08-19T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T18:31:20.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Those Were the Days..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RsjsBXj2BqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZMH8K0u4CnM/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RsjsBXj2BqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZMH8K0u4CnM/s400/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100586086245467810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RsjsBXj2BrI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vB3Gwlbklf0/s1600-h/images-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RsjsBXj2BrI/AAAAAAAAAAs/vB3Gwlbklf0/s400/images-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100586086245467826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The opening song to the TV show "All in the Family" used to drive me batty when I was a kid.  The song expressing a yearning when culture/life was more defined &amp; seemingly easier.  But just look at these photos now - the 50's colliding with the 70's.  Is there such a thing as funny or self aware dystalgia? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Those Were The Days"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Lee Adams and Charles Strouse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy, the way Glenn Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn't need no welfare state. Everybody pulled his weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee, our old LaSalle ran great. Those were the days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know who you were then. Girls were girls and men were men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People seemed to be content. Fifty dollars paid the rent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freaks were in a circus tent. Those were the days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a little Sunday spin, go to watch the Dodgers win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have yourself a dandy day that cost you under a fin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hair was short and skirts were long. Kate Smith really sold a song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know just what went wrong. Those Were The Days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-4575675623162097332?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/4575675623162097332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=4575675623162097332' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/4575675623162097332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/4575675623162097332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/those-were-days.html' title='&quot;Those Were the Days...&quot;'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/RsjsBXj2BqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZMH8K0u4CnM/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-1826885105311726582</id><published>2007-08-14T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:28:30.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Create or to Synthesize?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;So, we aren't the first, but we can still be the best. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="on" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.langmaker.com/db/Dystalgia"&gt;http://www.langmaker.com/db/Dystalgia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neologism"&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neologism&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-1826885105311726582?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/1826885105311726582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=1826885105311726582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/1826885105311726582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/1826885105311726582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/to-create-or-to-synthesize.html' title='To Create or to Synthesize?'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-3474400581358870803</id><published>2007-08-11T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T23:12:54.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Reporter's Opinion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rr6cHpTaM2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/2oaryLi8bbY/s1600-h/nest_install_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rr6cHpTaM2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/2oaryLi8bbY/s400/nest_install_4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097683483390260066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Installation view from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nest&lt;/span&gt;, a show by Dan Colen and Dash Snow at Deitch Projects  on view from July 26–August 16, 2007. More on the show &lt;a href="http://www.deitch.com/projects/sub.php?projId=219"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few dystalgic headlines:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Let's Get Political&lt;br /&gt;2. Zingers Saved Up, Sprayed Up&lt;br /&gt;3. Heads Hung Low&lt;br /&gt;4. Pete And Repeat Went For a Walk, Pete Made a Show, Nothing Was Left&lt;br /&gt;5. Where's The Outrage?&lt;br /&gt;6. Andrew Dice Clay Spotted in SoHo&lt;br /&gt;7. Jeffrey Handles the Vandals&lt;br /&gt;8. Live At Budokan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add your own!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-3474400581358870803?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/3474400581358870803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=3474400581358870803' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/3474400581358870803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/3474400581358870803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/one-reporters-opinion.html' title='One Reporter&apos;s Opinion'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LQL1ukz1jwU/Rr6cHpTaM2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/2oaryLi8bbY/s72-c/nest_install_4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-1597369469968726455</id><published>2007-08-08T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T16:41:13.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La Reproduction Interdite</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://home.surewest.net/jukes/Images/MAGRITTE.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://home.surewest.net/jukes/Images/MAGRITTE.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the Magritte painting, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not To Be Reproduced (La Reproduction interdite)&lt;/span&gt; 1937, dystalgic or nostalgic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discuss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-1597369469968726455?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/1597369469968726455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=1597369469968726455' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/1597369469968726455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/1597369469968726455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/re.html' title='La Reproduction Interdite'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6234668224543116029.post-4024080956182583522</id><published>2007-08-06T22:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T22:37:46.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Old Grey Mare</title><content type='html'>She ain't what she used to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6234668224543116029-4024080956182583522?l=dystalgia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/feeds/4024080956182583522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6234668224543116029&amp;postID=4024080956182583522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/4024080956182583522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6234668224543116029/posts/default/4024080956182583522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dystalgia.blogspot.com/2007/08/old-grey-mare.html' title='The Old Grey Mare'/><author><name>dystalgia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09208989215503507683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
