There’s this haunted house down Skelton Road. When we’re bored we occassionally break in there and scare ourselves. These shots are taken therein with a 15-30 second shutter. It was 1:30 in the morning and we could barely see ahead of ourselves, but the photos look like daylight. Some very strange, still daylight, but this LX3 lets in a lot of light. In the photo above, for example, you can see the blades and color of the grass, which I couldn’t see with my naked eye.You can’t really take photos of people with a shutter that long (cause we move), but there’s one here where everyone just stood still and it came out. Keep in mind that this is pitch dark, and yet you can read the number on a license plate yards away.

I studied Cognitive Science in University and took some classes at the Montreal Neurological Institute. One brain we studied in great detail was this dude HM, who couldn’t form new memories. He died today. Peace the spork out HM. They removed areas of his brain near the hippocampus, where memories get consolidated, and he simply lost his RAM, effectively. Hard disk was OK, but everything new got wiped. As in, we heard stories about the Doctor walking in, introducing himself, walking out. Comes back in later and HM is like ‘Hi, who are you?’. Made it entirely impossible for him to live a normal life, but led to huge breakthroughs in neuroscience. Again, peace the spork out HM. In exams full of obscure Latin anatomy you were the only dude I knew.

The forces of entropy are strong outside of Colombo. Outstation devours technology and spits it out mangled, wet and out of power. However, Colombo does the same thing to the human mind, so you have to get out occasionally. Took a lovely day trip to Negombo. Sat around, drank bloody Mary’s (with Mary, incidentally), jumped on the trampoline, played poker. On the way back N’s car broke down, and then my battery died while, er, helping her. Which was actually quite fun, sitting around in the rain waiting for the car carrier. They have good 3G coverage in Ja-Ela. Above is a video taken from Colombo to Negombo, sped up about 8x. The song is ‘Monster Hospital’ by Metric (MSTRKRFT Remix). Negombo is not that far from Colombo, and infinitely better. Beach is too rough to swim, but it’s beautiful and feels better than the ‘monster hospital’ as it were.

In a group of 57+ people the probability of two having the same birthday is pretty much 100%. Hence the clumping on Facebook and the unclumping of my wallet. My mother and my dear friend share the same birthday, and I share the same birthday as her daughter. Yesterday was my sister’s birthday, and two of my closest friends. It’s not my birthday, but a friend got me down this Flip video camera from the Etats and I used it a bit. What’s cool is that from plugging it in to my computer to appearing live on YouTube takes about 10 minutes with the flip. What’s less cool is the absolute vacuity of what I upload. These are birthday messages from Asvajit and Deshan.

Speaking more French than Sinhala, I have no particular interest in this Sinhala Buddhist thing. I am Buddhist (try to be practicing), but I’ve never found a country more difficult to meditate in. I honestly don’t identify with the Sinhala as much as ‘Sri Lankan’. There is still a rarefied cosmopolitan existence if you can eke it out, in certain houses now, cause reality is creeping into the bars. That’s why it’s strange upon meeting a metrosexual friend to hear that he’d spent the day in jail – for being Tamil. I mean, he’s Tamil like I’m Sinhala. It’s on his ID, but he’s English speaking and dresses and talks like it. But he spends the day in jail, explaining why he’s not a terrorist, and hearing that his race is ‘poison in the milk’. Of his nation. I should say that’s not right at all. There were some flies in the milk and we tried to kill them with poison. Now everybody’s sick.

My camera is borked so I let a three year old play with it. Nothing to lose and keeps the character occupied for a good while. These are the pictures she took. I tried to teach her things like what button to push and to point FRONT TOWARD ENEMY. There is only so much you can teach a child who obviously has more power and authority than yourself. She spent most of the time with the lens determinedly pressed into her eyeball, taking pictures of her eyelashes and this otherworldly light. She’s also using this interesting affect of finger-in-front-of-lens, perhaps to show the ontological impossibility of ever taking a truly objective photograph. Anyways, some of them are actually pretty good.

It’s amazing how much permission you need, just to be a human being. Security guard, home guard, Clogard. Got kicked out of two separate places tonight, just trying to be a kid. I’m walking because I should not drive. Of course it’s roadblock city and no one can proceed in a straight line. Meander to Independence Square and being independent, decide to walk through it at two in the morning. It’s a lovely space, smaller than I thought. There’s a pathway of light and ponds leading to the University, a promenade I’ve never seen. Of course, forbidden.

My parents apartment has a pool, where I’ve never been. Finally went, albeit on a cold, rainy day. These are some photos from that particular thing. I’ve always like rain, and liquids. I remember sitting under the highway overpass in Ohio, just watching the weird shapes the water of the Scioto River made. I tried to draw it, but couldn’t. Just looked like a bunch of blobs. Water is always moving, almost animate. What’s cool is that you can simply point a camera at it. I like rain too, cause using flash into the rain gives you these lovely hexagons of reflected light. There are also a few photos of people in the water – it’s very strange how the liquid bends and warps the light. Anyways, here are a few photos.

So, my friend Mo has cancer. He’s done the first round of chemo, which was promising, and now onto the next. He’s in good spirits and the harem is holding it down. That said, chemo costs money and the only trees growing round here are social networks. Hence Mo’s friends are having a ‘Mo Better Blues’ benefit at Barefoot on April 27th. Triloka, the Barefoot Jazz Band, Southern Jazz Project and many more will be performing. There will also be an art auction and a Koluu auction (as a cook). This whole thing must make Mo uncomfortable, but then chemo is uncomfortable. What to do. Tickets are Rs 1000 at the door and all donations go to Mo’s direct medical needs. I feel like I don’t even need to mention, but Mohan Ariyaratne is a lynchpin of the entire scene as we know it. Music and entertainment wise this promises to be another fanta night at Barefoot, but it is also a very good thing. Everyone gets a handstamp worth 10 ‘pin’ worth of karma at the door, redeemable for one night of moderate debauchery.

March was a dead loss. Death of clowns (Anura Bandaranaike) and of prophets (Arthur C. Clarke). Counting my paycheck, mopping the floors. Meditate in the morning, just to keep my head from sliding off my skull. Walk past the warehouses in the hot sun – trying to stay awake, aware. When I’m paying attention I stretch my fingers out, trying to touch something. Just trying to breathe. Put one foot in front of the other. Down hospital halls and corridors. Nurses in their deceptive whites and unshaven legs. Dude operating the coffee machine, 30 bucks. Back up the stairs, and I know the way by now. It’s hallucinogenic, this toreador. Small room, but decent. People come and go, but the elephant remains.