May 15, 2011 at 11:30 am (Fun) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


Because the Origami – 8in8 from Ben Jacobson on Vimeo.


I love this video.

Here’s the story behind it from Vimeo:

This song was written and recorded by 8in8 one night a couple of weeks ago – music.amandapalmer.net/​album/​nighty-night – Lyrics by Neil Gaiman, Ben Folds and Amanda Palmer; Music by Ben, Amanda and Damian Kulash; Performed by Ben and Amanda.

They released it under a CC license in the hope that people would make videos for the tracks. We loved this song so much that we were inspired to make this fan video – it just took a while getting the correct props together. Hope you enjoy it – we had so much fun making it.

Featuring Holly Jacobson – hollyjacobson.co.uk

Directed, Shot and Edited by Ben Jacobson – benjacobson.co.uk
Assisted by Benjamin Davis
Produced by Kaley Jacobson

I implore you all to go to Vimeo and follow the links (after you watch the video, of course).

I love this video for its sense of surrender and its intangible glimpse of adventure. I sense a letting go of and letting fate dictate what’s next. It is time to cease resistance.

It is time to surrender.

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.

For more 8in8 information, go here or here or here or here!

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Country Quiet

January 16, 2011 at 3:56 pm (Life, Memoir) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

It is Sunday. The city is quiet; city quiet. I’m just two blocks from two major roads so I can still hear the occasional traffic. The apartment building I live in is also quiet. Every once in a while I can hear someone come in the main door. Because I live mere feet from a semi-major roadway and almost right on the sidewalk, in a ground floor apartment, I never get away from noise completely. The bus stops outside my kitchen window and people walk by on the sidewalk any time, day or night, all through the seasons though there is less night traffic now that it is winter.

Last Sunday I had company and slept on the couch instead of in the bedroom. I was more aware of the normal overnight city noises because I normally keep a fan going in my bedroom overnight to act as white noise so that I don’t hear the city talk. It was a restless night. I got woken up quite regularly and gave up on getting a deep sleep after the beep beep of the grader backing up at four am woke me from a delicious dream.

I went back to the country for the recent holidays. My mother lives in a small town that houses less than a thousand persons. I swear most everyone was elsewhere. The quiet was almost apocalyptic. I would not have been surprised to see the frozen dead arising from the graveyards; silently, quietly arising.

I walked around on Boxing day. It was beyond quiet. I could concentrate on hearing each individual breath that I took. I felt invisible, a mere shadow in an alternative universe. I saw no one. I saw no evidence of recent activity. It was day, so my all too over active imagination kept itself reined in. I did not wonder if I had entered the Twilight Zone; I did not hope to have time enough at last.

City quiet. Country quiet. I’ve experienced both. I’ve experienced more. I can differentiate between city quiet, suburban quiet, rural quit and country quiet; between big Q quiet and little q quiet. I call this post Country Quiet but it properly should be called Rural Quiet or Small Town Quiet.

Quiet. Listen. There are nuances in the quiet. A true country quiet occurs when one is all alone in the middle of no where. My eldest sister yearns for a house in the country, serviced by secondary rural roads, the closest neighbour miles away. This country quiet gives me shivers; makes me have flashbacks to reading The Shining. This type of country quiet is too quiet. I prefer a city quiet.

Going back made me rehear the quiet; the quiet that is and is not silent, that is not really quiet. I hear my breath, my footfalls, the rustling of the snow, the birds, the breeze in the trees, the dogs barking across town and the quiet rustle of highway traffic. Is it Quiet or is it quiet?

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A Tangle of Cords

January 9, 2011 at 2:33 pm (Life, My City, Weather) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Winter has returned. This is winter in Saskatchewan; Friday I walked outside for over an hour and it felt like spring was just around the corner and today I needed a scarf and longed, once again, for warm underwear.

I could quote temperatures and wind chills but my mind confuses between Celsius and Fahrenheit and which is really, really cold. Really, really cold is impossible to describe. You can only experience it and believe me you don’t want to experience it. Plus, of course, really, really cold is relevant. My Saskatchewan really, really cold does not compare with my sister’s experience of living on a northern Canadian bay in Nunavut really, really cold.

Saskatchewan cold is going to bed with the river flowing, the day warm and waking up to this:

Saskatchewan cold is sledding on Christmas warm and cuddling in front of a fire on New Years Eve because only the brave or foolish go out to party in that darn cold.

Saskatchewan cold is the river frozen solid one day, holes appearing the next, then only half frozen, then a cold snap hits and everything starts freezing all over again!

Saskatchewan winter is living with a tangle of cords everywhere.  Electric cords grow over night on the bare streets and in alley ways. Those of us walking have to remember to both look up and down so that we are not tripped or strangled by these strange, new vines.

Saskatchewan winters are ripe with cords. There are electric cords and cords of wood. There are bright yellow, orange and blue electric cords; enough to populate a Dr. Seuss story. Red Cord, Blue Cord, One Cord, Two Cords.

I’m thankful that I don’t have to chop and stack cords of wood the way my grandparents had to. I’m thankful for warmer houses and electric lights, for blankets and library books. Sometimes, I’m even thankful for winter because it gives me the excuse to stay in and do nothing expect read and watch insanely, stupid television shows.

My mother is taking her first holiday south for part of January. I’m not a big fan of too hot so I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to the point of going south every winter.

I’m of hearty stock. I can take everything Winter decides to throw at me. I am from Saskatchewan.

Here, we barbecue on the balcony/deck/in the back yard just to spite Old Man Winter. Here, we enjoy our walks in the park during every season.

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