a last...

sad that 2weeks+change ago i say new machine en route and today i still waiting, but we won't dwell on that. this is what i firmly believe will actually be the last post from this machine, an attempt to archive some tabs before i lose them with the hardware. me eh even know how/if[!] these links fit together but we going through hard regardless; information rules. in no particular order:
i know i post about building modular mobile phones the other day, and i like how tings shaping up with this google project ara doing exactly wha' i waiting for...
interesting information about gendered world populations and the reasons behind differing gender gaps. feel like story material, no?
dread. complete switch. the other day, i actually meet manu chao (the ever-enigmatic) because he liming in trini. he come our 2nd-to-las' backyard jam, was singing along to canals' songs halfway into the set, and days later was in our little blue studio upstairs, recording a track with we boys warrenman+roger+stanny + cut+clear...and a handful of us know who manu is and too fucking excited but to most of trini he just a random, relatively inconspicuous dude liming in the blackyard, in the big black box on a carnival friday night...
brief clip of speech sounds; gorgeous movement i cyah wait to see the rest of from makeda.
and speaking of movement, visuals of sex and the human body in action from inside an mri machine; very cool.
the title of this piece says it all; my roommate didn't replace the toiler paper, so i wrote a shakespearean tragedy dedicated to him.
in carnival and local pop culture news, i gave up on scorch magazine's articles ages ago, but bounce up this 1 the other day and was pleasantly surprised; where all dem woman does come from daddayyy?! well done.
striking back against revenge porn, social commentary from the real world; reclaiming her body+image; 1st link to her written story; 2nd link to an interview with link to her [consenting]photo-essay.
and videos to end; 1 for mere curiosity because this girl's foot exercises immediately struck me as being sooo slooow, but before i could even wonder why i realise the articulateness of her feet (this bitch have toes like fingers! swear!) and the intense focus on their movement made me feel like i was watching foot-porn, dread...now i'm intrigued by whether she knows...maybe it all slooow for spiiite...but seriously, toes like fingers; a bizarrely-compelling watch...

and this poem, her delivery, just yes...

walk good.