What Ancient Latin Sounded Like, And How We Know It

Latin is a lan­guage

As dead as dead can be

It killed the Romans long ago, 

And now it’s killing me.

That famed dit­ty isn’t like­ly to res­onate with many mod­ern school chil­dren, but inter­est in ancient Rome remains fair­ly robust. 

We’ve come to accept that those state­ly ruins were once cov­ered in graf­fi­ti.

We can recre­ate their meals from hors d’oevures (Boiled Eggs with Pine Nut Sauce) to dessert (Pear Pati­na).

Ther­mae Romae, a pop­u­lar Japan­ese man­ga-cum-fea­ture-film, took us inside Emper­or Hadri­an’s bath­house.

But what did the Romans sound like?

Kirk Dou­glasSpar­ta­cus? Or Lau­rence Olivier’s Cras­sus?

The recent series Rome upheld the tra­di­tion of British accents.

Ani­ma­tor Josh Rud­der of NativLang did a fair amount of dig­ging in ser­vice of find­ing out What Latin Sound­ed Like, above.

(And he seems to have done so with­out the help of Derek Jarman’s NSFW Sebas­tiane, the only fea­ture film to be filmed entire­ly in ser­mo vul­garis or vul­gar Latin.)

Instead, he draws from ancient rhetori­cian Quin­til­ian and Virgil’s’ poet­ic meter. Scroll back­ward through the romance lan­guages, and you’ll see Ger­man­ic tribes trad­ing with and fight­ing ancient Roman troops.

The result is not so much a recon­struc­tive pro­nun­ci­a­tion guide as a lin­guis­tic detec­tive sto­ry.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,600-Year-Old Illu­mi­nat­ed Man­u­script of the Aeneid Dig­i­tized & Put Online by The Vat­i­can

Learn Latin, Old Eng­lish, San­skrit, Clas­si­cal Greek & Oth­er Ancient Lan­guages in 10 Lessons

Rome Reborn: Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of Ancient Rome, Cir­ca 320 C.E.

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her lat­est com­ic con­trasts the birth of her sec­ond child with the uncen­sored gore of Game of Thrones. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

The Neuroscience & Psychology of Procrastination, and How to Overcome It

Pro­cras­ti­na­tion is a skill, an art, a slight-of-hand tech­nique. I’m pro­cras­ti­nat­ing right now, but you’d nev­er know it. How many tabs do I have open in my mul­ti­ple brows­er win­dows? Pick a num­ber, any num­ber. How many tasks have I put off today? How many dreams have I deferred? I’ll nev­er tell. The unskilled pro­cras­ti­na­tors stick out, they’re easy to spot. They talk a lot about what they’re not doing. They run around in cir­cles of bewil­der­ment like the trou­bled hero of Dr. Seuss’s Hunch­es in Bunch­es. The skilled prac­ti­tion­er makes it look easy.

But no mat­ter how much Face­book time you get in before lunch and still man­age to ace those per­for­mance reviews, you’re real­ly only cheat­ing your­self, am I right? You want­ed to fin­ish that novel/symphony/improv class/physics the­o­rem. But some­thing stopped you. Some­thing in your brain per­haps. That’s where these things usu­al­ly hap­pen. When Stu­art Lang­field asked a neu­ro­sci­en­tist about the neu­ro­science of pro­cras­ti­na­tion, he got the fol­low­ing answer: “Peo­ple think that you can turn on an MRI and see where something’s hap­pen­ing in the brain, but the truth is that’s not so. This stuff is vast­ly more com­pli­cat­ed, so we have the­o­ries.”

There are the­o­ries aplen­ty that tell us, says Lang­field, “what’s prob­a­bly hap­pen­ing” in the brain. Lang­field explains his own: the prim­i­tive, plea­sure-seek­ing, pain-avoid­ing lim­bic sys­tem acts too quick­ly for our more delib­er­a­tive, ratio­nal pre­frontal cor­tex to catch up, ren­der­ing us stu­pe­fied by dis­trac­tions. Piers Steel, Dis­tin­guished Research Chair at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­gary and a pro­cras­ti­na­tion expert, shares this view. You can see him explain it in the short video below. The evo­lu­tion­ary “design flaw,” says Lang­field, might make the sit­u­a­tion seem hope­less, were it not for “neu­ro­plas­tic­i­ty,” a fan­cy buzz­word that means we have the abil­i­ty to change our brains.

Langfield’s pur­pose in his short video is not only to under­stand the biol­o­gy of pro­cras­ti­na­tion, but to over­come it. He asks psy­chol­o­gist Tim Pychyl, whose answers we see and hear as an incom­pre­hen­si­ble jum­ble of ideas. But then Pychyl reduces the com­pli­cat­ed the­o­ries to a sim­ple solu­tion. You guessed it, mind­ful­ness meditation—to “down­reg­u­late the lim­bic sys­tem.” Real­ly, that’s it? Just med­i­tate? It is a proven way to reduce anx­i­ety and improve con­cen­tra­tion.

But Pychyl and his research team at Car­leton Uni­ver­si­ty have a few more very prac­ti­cal sug­ges­tions, based on exper­i­men­tal data gath­ered by Steel and oth­ers. The Wall Street Jour­nal offers this con­densed list of tips:

Break a long-term project down into spe­cif­ic sub-goals. State the exact start time and how long (not just “tomor­row”) you plan to work on the task.

Just get start­ed. It isn’t nec­es­sary to write a long list of tasks, or each inter­me­di­ate step.

Remind your­self that fin­ish­ing the task now helps you in the future. Putting off the task won’t make it more enjoy­able.

Imple­ment “micro­costs,” or mini-delays, that require you to make a small effort to pro­cras­ti­nate, such as hav­ing to log on to a sep­a­rate com­put­er account for games.

Reward your­self not only for com­plet­ing the entire project but also the sub-goals.

A Stock­holm Uni­ver­si­ty study test­ed these strate­gies, assign­ing a group of 150 self-report­ed “high pro­cras­ti­na­tors” sev­er­al of the self-help instruc­tions over 10 weeks, and employ­ing a reward sys­tem and vary­ing lev­els of guid­ance. “The results,” WSJ reports, “showed that after inter­ven­tion with both guid­ed and unguid­ed self-help, peo­ple improved their pro­cras­ti­na­tion, though the guid­ed ther­a­py seemed to show greater ben­e­fit.”

Oth­er times, adding self-help tasks to get us to the tasks we’re putting off doesn’t work so well. We can all take com­fort in the fact that pro­cras­ti­na­tion has a long his­to­ry, dat­ing back to ancient Egypt, Rome, and 18th cen­tu­ry Eng­land. The wis­dom of the ages could not defeat it, or as Samuel John­son wrote, “even they who most steadi­ly with­stand it find it, if not the most vio­lent, the most per­ti­na­cious of their pas­sions, always renew­ing its attacks, and, though often van­quished, nev­er destroyed.”

But there are peo­ple who pro­cras­ti­nate, beset by its per­ti­nac­i­ty, and then there are chron­ic pro­cras­ti­na­tors. “If you’re an occa­sion­al pro­cras­ti­na­tor, says Pychyl, “quit think­ing about your feel­ings and get to the next task.” Suck it up, in oth­er words, and walk it off—maybe after a short course of self-help. For all the con­flict­ing neu­ro­sci­en­tif­ic the­o­ry, “there is a qui­et sci­ence behind pro­cras­ti­na­tion,” writes Big Think, and “accord­ing to recent stud­ies, pro­cras­ti­na­tion is a learned habit.” Most research agrees it’s one we can unlearn through med­i­ta­tion and/or patient retrain­ing of our­selves.

How­ev­er if you’re of the chron­ic sub­set, say Pychyl, “you might need ther­a­py to bet­ter under­stand your emo­tions and how you’re cop­ing with them through avoid­ance.” Psy­chol­o­gist Joseph Fer­rari at DePaul Uni­ver­si­ty agrees. Cit­ing a fig­ure of “20 per­cent of U.S. men and women” who “make pro­cras­ti­na­tion their way of life,” he adds, “it is the per­son who does that habit­u­al­ly, always with plau­si­ble ‘excus­es’ that has issues to address.” Only you can deter­mine whether your trou­ble relates to bad habits or deep­er psy­cho­log­i­cal issues.

What­ev­er the caus­es, what might moti­vate us to med­i­tate or seek ther­a­py are the effects. Chron­ic pro­cras­ti­na­tion is “not a time man­age­ment issue,” says Fer­rari, “it is a mal­adap­tive lifestyle.” Habit­u­al pro­cras­ti­na­tors, the WSJ writes, “have high­er rates of depres­sion and anx­i­ety and poor­er well-being.” We may think, writes Eric Jaffe at the Asso­ci­a­tion for Psy­cho­log­i­cal Science’s jour­nal, of pro­cras­ti­na­tion as “an innocu­ous habit at worst, and maybe even a help­ful one at best,” a strat­e­gy Stan­ford phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sor John Per­ry argued for in The Art of Pro­cras­ti­na­tion. Instead, Jaffe says, in a sober­ing sum­ma­ry of Pychyl’s research, “pro­cras­ti­na­tion is real­ly a self-inflict­ed wound that grad­u­al­ly chips away at the most valu­able resource in the world: time.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es

Dai­ly Med­i­ta­tion Boosts & Revi­tal­izes the Brain and Reduces Stress, Har­vard Study Finds

Miran­da July Teach­es You How to Avoid Pro­cras­ti­na­tion

The Art of Struc­tured Pro­cras­ti­na­tion

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

What Do Movies Say When They Say Nothing at All: A Video Essay

Some­times less is more. Some­times silence says more than words or sound itself. John Cage knew it. Dit­to our finest film­mak­ers. That’s the take­away from When Words Fail in Moviesa new video essay that stitch­es togeth­er 15 scenes from icon­ic films by Hitch­cock, Kubrick, Felli­ni and oth­ers. Cre­at­ed by David Verdeure at Film­scalpel, the clip lets us med­i­tate on “the mean­ing­ful use of silence” in the sound-film era. Fan­dor has pulled togeth­er a list of scenes used in the mon­tage. Find them below:

The Matrix, dir. Lana Wachows­ki and Lil­ly Wachows­ki. Sil­ver Pic­tures, USA, 1999. 136 mins.
The God­fa­ther: Part III, dir. Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la. Zoetrope Stu­dios, USA, 1990. 162 mins.
Mon Oncle, dir. Jacques Tati. Spec­ta films et al., France, 1958. 117 mins.
2001: A Space Odyssey, dir. Stan­ley Kubrick. Stan­ley Kubrick Pro­duc­tions, UK / USA, 1968. 149 mins.
Lost in Trans­la­tion, dir. Sofia Cop­po­la. Amer­i­can Zoetrope et al., USA, 2003. 101 mins.
On the Water­front, dir., Elia Kazan. Hori­zon Pic­tures et al., USA, 1954. 108 mins.
The Grad­u­ate, dir. Mike Nichols. Lawrence Tur­man, USA, 1967. 106 mins.
The Lone­li­ness of the Long Dis­tance Run­ner, dir. Tony Richard­son. Wood­fall Film Pro­duc­tions, UK, 1962. 104 mins.
North by North­west, dir. Alfred Hitch­cock. Metro-Gold­wyn-May­er, USA, 1959. 136 mins.
In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai. Block 2 Pic­tures et al., Hong Kong / Chi­na, 2000. 158 mins.
The Mar­t­ian, dir. Rid­ley Scott. Scott Free Pro­duc­tions et al., USA, 2015. 144 mins.
The Dis­creet Charm of the Bour­geoisie, dir. Luis Buñuel. Green­wich Film Pro­duc­tions, France, 1972. 102 mins.
The Con­ver­sa­tion, dir. Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la. Amer­i­can Zoetrope et al., USA, 1974. 113 mins.
Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, dir. David Lynch. Twin Peaks Pro­duc­tions et al., USA, 1992. 135 mins.
La Dolce Vita, dir. Fed­eri­co Felli­ni. Ria­ma Film et al., Italy, 1960. 180 mins.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Cage Per­forms His Avant-Garde Piano Piece 4’33” … in 1’22” (Har­vard Square, 1973)

Thomas Edison’s Silent Film of the “Fartiste” Who Delight­ed Crowds at Le Moulin Rouge (1900)

101 Free Silent Films: The Great Clas­sics

When Steve Buscemi Was a Firefighter — and Took It Up Again After 9/11

Steve Buscemi’s roles in movies like In the SoupThe Big Lebows­ki, and Ghost World have asso­ci­at­ed him for life with a cer­tain kind of char­ac­ter: awk­ward, inef­fec­tu­al, and even slight­ly creepy, but nev­er­the­less strange­ly endear­ing. But types and the actors who play them can, and usu­al­ly do, diverge, and that goes espe­cial­ly for Busce­mi. He may have made his name por­tray­ing a host of los­er-ish men, but his skill at bring­ing them and oth­er char­ac­ters to dis­tinc­tive life have kept him a high­ly suc­cess­ful per­former for decades now. And what did he do before that? Why, he fought fires — and he did­n’t hes­i­tate to do it again after becom­ing famous.

steve-buscemi-fdny

Uni­lad’s Alex Watt quotes a post on the Broth­er­hood of Fire Face­book page which reveals how the Board­walk Empire star entered his oth­er pro­fes­sion: “In 1976 Steve Busce­mi took the FDNY civ­il ser­vice test when he was just 18 years old,” became a fire­fight­er a few years lat­er, and for four years “served on one of FDNY’s busiest, Engine Co. 55.” He returned to that very same engine after Sep­tem­ber 11, 2001, “and for sev­er­al days fol­low­ing Broth­er Steve worked 12-hour shifts along­side oth­er fire­fight­ers dig­ging and sift­ing through the rub­ble from the World Trade Cen­ter look­ing for sur­vivors.”

Though he avoid­ed pub­li­ciz­ing his brief return to fire­fight­ing at the time, Busce­mi has spo­ken open­ly about it since, as he does in the CBS Sun­day Morn­ing clip at the top of the post. Many who hear the sto­ry of a high-pro­file actor putting his life on hold and rush­ing right into a dis­as­ter site might rush right to the urban leg­end site Snopes, which does­n’t just ver­i­fy it, but also col­lects some of Buscemi’s own words about his fire­fight­ing days. He start­ed, he recalls, when he “was liv­ing in Man­hat­tan, work­ing as a fur­ni­ture mover dur­ing the day, doing stand-up com­e­dy at night and look­ing for a change. I liked the job — the guys I worked with and the nature of the work. I think I would have been hap­py doing it if I had­n’t had a greater pas­sion for act­ing.”

Buscemi’s fire­fight­ing expe­ri­ence and abil­i­ty to appear onscreen come togeth­er in A Good Job: Sto­ries of the FDNY, the doc­u­men­tary just above. Co-pro­duced by Busce­mi him­self, the film goes “behind the scenes” of the New York City Fire Depart­ment, show­ing just what it takes to put out the blazes of Amer­i­ca’s most demand­ing city. (You can see Busce­mi talk­ing about his expe­ri­ence dur­ing 9/11 around the 43 minute mark.) The “good job” of the title, one retired fire­fight­er explains, means “a real­ly tough fire.” And no mat­ter what kind of “job,” Busce­mi says, “they’re all fright­en­ing. Any time you go into a burn­ing build­ing, there’s the poten­tial for dis­as­ter. I nev­er had any real close calls, though there’s no such thing as a rou­tine fire.” No doubt he keeps him­self men­tal­ly pre­pared for anoth­er — just in case.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Steve Buscemi’s Top 10 Film Picks (from The Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion)

Quentin Taran­ti­no & Steve Busce­mi Rehearse Scenes for Reser­voir Dogs in 1991 (NSFW)

William S. Bur­roughs’ Home Movies, Fea­tur­ing Pat­ti Smith, Allen Gins­berg, Steve Busce­mi & Cats

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

8 Writers on How to Face Writer’s Block and the Blank Page: Margaret Atwood, Jonathan Franzen, Joyce Carol Oates & More

For those who write for a liv­ing, the issue of writer’s block doesn’t come up as often as tele­vi­sion and movies may have oth­ers believe. Sure, there’s plen­ty of times where the words don’t flow like they should. Or a writer may find they’ve writ­ten dri­v­el and start again. Or the begin­ning proves elu­sive. Or the end proves tricky. But that cliché of the har­ried writer, sit­ting in front of a blank sheet of paper (maybe with the daunt­ing “Chap­ter One” hov­er­ing at the top)? Maybe not so much.

In this short video made for the Louisiana Chan­nel (a YouTube chan­nel for the Louisiana Muse­um of Mod­ern Art in Den­mark), the blank page is any­thing but ter­ri­fy­ing for the eight authors inter­viewed.

“I don’t think writer’s block actu­al­ly exists,” says Philipp Mey­er. “It’s basi­cal­ly inse­cu­ri­ty. It’s your own inter­nal crit­ic turned up to a high­er lev­el than it’s sup­posed to be at that moment…The point is to get some­thing down on paper.”

Alaa Al-Aswany makes the most philo­soph­i­cal point, call­ing writ­ing the “con­flict between what you want to say and what you could say.”

Many of the authors inter­viewed, like Jonathan Franzen, Lydia Davis, and Joyce Car­ol Oates agree on a sim­i­lar point: the writer’s mind must have prepped and writ­ten and researched long before the body sits and the hands write. “By the time I come to the blank page I have many things to say,” Oates says.

For oth­er writ­ers, the blank page is a sym­bol of poten­tial. For David Mitchell it’s a door that opens onto infin­i­ty. For Mar­garet Atwood, the page “beck­ons you in to write some­thing on it. It must be filled.”

Daniel Kehlmann fills his in long­hand and calls it “deeply sat­is­fy­ing” even though writ­ing that first draft is the “least joy­ful part of writ­ing.”

In the final minute, David Mitchell does tack­le the idea of a writer’s block, but his sug­ges­tion is not worth spoil­ing, so go ahead and watch the whole thing. And if you’re a writer watch­ing this video because you’re procrastinating…get back to work!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen King Cre­ates a List of 96 Books for Aspir­ing Writ­ers to Read

The Dai­ly Habits of Famous Writ­ers: Franz Kaf­ka, Haru­ki Muraka­mi, Stephen King & More

Ray Brad­bury Gives 12 Pieces of Writ­ing Advice to Young Authors (2001)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

The CIA Puts Hundreds of Declassified Documents About UFO Sightings Online, Plus 10 Tips for Investigating Flying Saucers

ufo-sightings

Let down by the X‑Files reboot? Maybe you nev­er real­ly dug the whole alien con­spir­a­cy thing with the bees and the black sludge in the first place. Maybe you didn’t need anoth­er con­vo­lut­ed, inscrutable, bonkers plot­line. Maybe you want­ed the truth. It’s out there. The CIA might know where it is.

In 1978, the agency known in some cir­cles for mas­ter­mind­ing near­ly every world event since its incep­tion declas­si­fied a vast num­ber of files, “hun­dreds of doc­u­ments… detail­ing the Agency’s inves­ti­ga­tions into Uniden­ti­fied Fly­ing Objects (UFOS). The doc­u­ments date pri­mar­i­ly from the late 1940s and 1950s.”

And since this past Jan­u­ary the pub­lic has had full and open access to all of those doc­u­ments on the inter­net. To cel­e­brate the seri­ous­ness of this archive’s wide­spread avail­abil­i­ty, the Agency made two lists of five dif­fer­ent doc­u­ments each, to “high­light a few doc­u­ments both skep­tics and believ­ers will find inter­est­ing.”

Who do you think they picked for their mod­el skep­tic and believ­er? “The truth is out there,” as the CIA is appar­ent­ly fond of say­ing, “click on the links to find it.”

The Mul­der and Scul­ly lists serve as light­heart­ed intro­duc­tions to the some­times bewil­der­ing array of doc­u­ments in the CIA’s Free­dom of Infor­ma­tion Act (FOIA) Elec­tron­ic Read­ing Room, which hosts those sev­er­al hun­dred reports, mem­os, etc., some­times redact­ed or writ­ten in Agency code.

Then, of course, there’s this pre­cious eye­wit­ness tes­ti­mo­ny, from Mulder’s list, tak­en from a man in East Ger­many in 1952:

Now, the side of the object on which the holes had been opened began to glit­ter. Its col­or seemed green but lat­er turned to red. At the same time I began to hear a slight hum. While the bright­ness and hum increased, the con­i­cal tow­er began to slide down into the cen­ter of the object. The whole object then began to rise slow­ly from the ground and rotate like a top.

If you’re see­ing a descrip­tion from a clas­sic sci-fi radio dra­ma or pulp mag­a­zine, read on. The craft becomes “sur­round­ed by a ring of flames,” ris­es, and flies away. And, of course, the man had ear­li­er wit­nessed men “dressed in some shiny metal­lic cloth­ing.” It all sounds very sil­ly except that many oth­er unre­lat­ed peo­ple in the small town report­ed see­ing some­thing very strange in the sky that night. One wit­ness­es’ over­ac­tive imag­i­na­tion does not inval­i­date the tes­ti­mo­ny of the oth­ers.

Or does it?

We’ve had many sight­ings of UFOs from astro­nauts and pilots in the last few decades (most­ly debunked), and ordi­nary peo­ple on the ground have nev­er stopped see­ing lights in the sky. So we might won­der why all of the CIA doc­u­ments on the site come from the 1960s and before? Is this a sign of increased activ­i­ty in the years after the sup­posed Roswell event? Per­haps the alien conspiracy’s fever­ish, devi­ous start?

Or, as Geek­Wire writes, was the CIA “wor­ried about the poten­tial threat that UFOs posed to nation­al secu­ri­ty… they assumed that the UFOs might be part of a Sovi­et weapons test pro­gram.” With the grad­ual warm­ing of rela­tions, then glas­nost, the spies lost inter­est… (Or…?) … but we might won­der why the Agency used the new X‑Files debut to draw atten­tion to itself. Your con­spir­a­cy the­o­ry is prob­a­bly as good as any oth­er.

If CIA did stop inves­ti­gat­ing alien inva­sions, you don’t have to. The Agency has left it in your capa­ble hands, pub­lish­ing “10 Tips When Inves­ti­gat­ing a Fly­ing Saucer” to guide you in your quest for the truth. Be warned: it’s a very skep­tic-friend­ly set of guide­lines; one that—were every­one to fol­low it—might vir­tu­al­ly elim­i­nate every report­ed UFO sight­ing. Curi­ous that. What are they hid­ing?

Find the list below, and see the com­plete expla­na­tion of each tip (such times we live in) at the CIA’s web­site.

1. Estab­lish a group to inves­ti­gate and eval­u­ate sight­ings
2. Deter­mine the objec­tives of your inves­ti­ga­tion
3. Con­sult with experts
4. Cre­ate a report­ing sys­tem to orga­nize incom­ing cas­es
5. Elim­i­nate false pos­i­tives
6. Devel­op method­ol­o­gy to iden­ti­fy air­craft and oth­er aer­i­al phe­nom­e­na often mis­tak­en for UFOs
7. Exam­ine wit­ness doc­u­men­ta­tion
8. Con­duct con­trolled exper­i­ments
9. Gath­er and test phys­i­cal and foren­sic evi­dence
10. Dis­cour­age false report­ing

Again, to dig deep­er into the CIA’s fas­ci­nat­ing archive of UFO sight­ings, vis­it its FOIA UFO col­lec­tion. True believ­ers may want to know more, and they can, if they’re will­ing to fol­low the Byzan­tine research instruc­tions on the UFO collection’s main page to find an Agency arti­cle about the “CIA’s Role in the Study of UFOs, 1947–1990.” Or they could just click here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Read the CIA’s Sim­ple Sab­o­tage Field Man­u­al: A Time­less, Kafkaesque Guide to Sub­vert­ing Any Orga­ni­za­tion with “Pur­pose­ful Stu­pid­i­ty” (1944)

The C.I.A.’s “Bes­tiary of Intel­li­gence Writ­ing” Sat­i­rizes Spook Jar­gon with Mau­rice Sendak-Style Draw­ings

Carl Jung’s Fas­ci­nat­ing 1957 Let­ter on UFOs

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

When Glenn O’Brien’s TV Party Brought Klaus Nomi, Blondie & Basquiat to Public Access TV (1978–82)

“This is not a test!” the host shouts into his micro­phone. “This is an actu­al show!” If you lived in New York and had cable in the late 1970s, you may have wit­nessed it your­self — and you may well have need­ed the reminder, because this show nei­ther looked nor felt like any­thing that ever aired before. A fix­ture on pub­lic access Chan­nel D and Chan­nel J from 1972 to 1982, it threw down a rede­f­i­n­i­tion of tele­vi­su­al pos­si­bil­i­ties that has­n’t just sur­vived as a time cap­sule of the down­town Man­hat­tan scene at its cre­ative rolling boil, but retains its anar­chic charge to this day. Wel­come, whether you first tuned in back then or have only just tuned in on the inter­net now, to Glenn O’Brien’s TV Par­ty.

O’Brien, who co-cre­at­ed and presided over the show, did­n’t always shout, but when he did, he man­aged to retain his dead­pan self-pos­ses­sion. He even kept his cool when hang­ing out, live on the air, with the reg­u­lars of a guest list includ­ing “David Bowie, David Byrne, Robert Fripp, the B‑52s, Chris Bur­den, George Clin­ton, Iggy Pop, Steven Meisel, Mick Jones, James Chance, John Lurie, Klaus Nomi, Kraftwerk, the Scream­ers, Robert Map­plethor­pe, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Nile Rodgers, Kid Cre­ole, the Offs, Alex Chilton, the Brides of Funken­stein, Arthur Rus­sell, David McDer­mott, and Charles Rock­et, just to name a few.” At its height, TV Par­ty let its audi­ence hang out with such lumi­nar­ies almost every week as well — lit­er­al­ly, if they man­aged to find their way to the stu­dio.

Hav­ing attained sub­cul­tur­al fame as the first edi­tor of Andy Warhol’s Inter­view mag­a­zine, the Cleve­land-born O’Brien also engaged in such straight­for­ward­ly coun­ter­cul­tur­al efforts as writ­ing for, and lat­er edit­ing, the infa­mous jour­nal of the cannabis lifestyle High Times.

That bit of sta­tus drew an invi­ta­tion to appear on the ear­ly pub­lic-access vari­ety pro­gram The Coca Crys­tal Show. The expe­ri­ence imme­di­ate­ly inspired him to cre­ate one of his own, a strike against the threat to free speech he sensed when mass media meant just a few main­stream tele­vi­sion chan­nels. And so O’Brien, along with Blondie co-founder and gui­tarist Chris Stein, launched TV Par­ty, a drug-fueled re-inter­pre­ta­tion of Hugh Hefn­er’s Play­boy After Dark, “the TV show that’s a par­ty,” as he put it in a mem­o­rably askew phras­ing on its very first broad­cast, “but which could be a polit­i­cal par­ty.”

Here we have a few par­tic­u­lar­ly mem­o­rable TV Par­ty evenings, includ­ing a per­for­mance by the not-of-this-earth pro­to-glam-rock­er Klaus Nomi, an inter­view of painter Jean-Michel Basquiat (who became a reg­u­lar pres­ence on the show and a “lit­tle broth­er” fig­ure to the crew), and an episode with Blondie. Vice put up TV Par­ty best-of a cou­ple years ago, which has let a new gen­er­a­tion expe­ri­ence what now seems strik­ing­ly like a pre­de­ces­sor of the shows cre­at­ed for the inter­net video plat­forms they fre­quent today. It also includes a 90-minute doc­u­men­tary about the his­to­ry of TV Par­ty, which pro­vides the nec­es­sary his­tor­i­cal and cul­tur­al con­text for those unfa­mil­iar with the New York O’Brien describes as “like a third-world coun­try.” Shot in the ghost­ly black-and-white one asso­ciates with 1970s video artists, its visu­al ele­ments either psy­che­del­i­cal­ly bleed­ing into or jagged­ly cut­ting between one anoth­er, “the show could get abstract quick­ly,” remem­bers O’Brien.

But in uphold­ing its mis­sion to erase the dis­tinc­tion between per­former and audi­ence, TV Par­ty belongs as much to the late 70s as it does to the 21st cen­tu­ry. It used to the fullest extent pos­si­ble the free­dom of pub­lic-access tele­vi­sion, very much the Youtube of its day. (Cer­tain­ly the callers-in could sound just as abu­sive as Youtube com­menters.) It even end­ed in the high­ly mod­ern fash­ion of not get­ting can­celed, but sim­ply fad­ing away, the stretch­es between episodes grow­ing longer and longer. “Maybe Chris and I will start it up again,” O’Brien spec­u­lates in the doc­u­men­tary, but he pre­sum­ably has his hands full with his lat­est talk show: Tea at the Beat­rice with Glenn O’Brien, cre­at­ed espe­cial­ly for the inter­net. The sen­si­bil­i­ty may have changed — nobody fires up a joint on cam­era any­more — but the excite­ment of explor­ing unchart­ed media ter­ri­to­ry remains.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Blondie Plays CBGB in the Mid-70s in Two Vin­tage Clips

Klaus Nomi: The Bril­liant Per­for­mance of a Dying Man

David Bowie and Klaus Nomi’s Hyp­not­ic Per­for­mance on SNL (1979)

The Odd Cou­ple: Jean-Michel Basquiat and Andy Warhol, 1986

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Three-Hour Mixtape Offers a Sonic Introduction to Underground Goth Music

Bauhaus_Belalugosi

Image by Pedro Figueire­do, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Why, in my day we called it “post-punk” and we walked miles to find it in cat­a­combs with secret pass­words, far away from any mall appar­el stores or bev­er­age-spon­sored music fes­ti­vals….

Most­ly rub­bish, though I have heard many an old cam­paign­er say as much, decry­ing Goth rock as a recent, devo­lu­tion from more seri­ous, avant-garde trends. Some amal­gam of The Doors, Leonard Cohen, Nico and the Vel­vet Under­ground, The Damned, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, and Ham­mer hor­ror films, ear­ly goth rock went spare, atmos­pher­ic, and punky, like the ear­ly Cure, or baroque, morose, and cabaret like Bauhaus, or any oth­er num­ber of respectable art-rock direc­tions.

These bands, many of my cohort believe, had integri­ty, and much bet­ter taste than kids today. All that get off my lawn-ness makes an easy tar­get, as does the increas­ing pop­u­lar­i­ty of a genre of music made for and by unpop­u­lar peo­ple.

Mix blog Secret Thir­teen, cura­tor of the goth rock mix above, admits as much. “Goth has nev­er been an easy affair to dis­cuss,” reads the mix intro in idio­syn­crat­ic Eng­lish: “Kitschy atmos­phere of mas­sive con­tem­po­rary goth fes­ti­vals and stereo­typ­ing dis­cours­es usu­al­ly over­whelmed the tex­tur­al and emo­tion­al core of goth.” Con­tem­po­rary per­cep­tions, fair or not, obscure the diversity—stylistically, that is… of the music, with its “diverse ele­ments includ­ing Dada move­ment, sur­re­al­ist aes­thet­ics, post-mod­ernism, French ‘fin-de-siecle’ poet­ry, 19th cen­tu­ry roman­ti­cism, punk, kraut, glam, shoegaze, ambi­ent, folk, etc….”

Indeed, it’s all there, when a band with the abra­sive low-camp, grind­house punk of Nick Cave’s The Birth­day Par­ty shares a musi­cal lin­eage with the ear­ly syn­th­pop of Min­istry (with DJ-scratch­ing!) and the medieval- and world music-obsessed Dead Can Dance. But the key oper­a­tor in these extremes is the­atri­cal­i­ty. Since Siouxsie Sioux’s fish­nets and swastikas, Dave Vanian’s vam­pire cos­tumes and pan­cake make­up, and Robert Smith’s enor­mous weep­ing wil­low hair and onstage mist-shroud­ed cathe­drals of despair, goth has had to make over­wrought spec­ta­cles of itself, at times hor­ri­bly tacky ones.

But the Secret Thir­teen mix, com­piled by founder Justi­nas Mikul­skis, reminds us it’s real­ly about the music, by putting togeth­er “the deep cuts,” writes Elec­tron­ic Beats, “none of this ‘Bela’s Lugosi’s Dead’ stuff” (refer­ring to Bauhaus’ biggest hit).

Here instead we find “the bois­ter­ous deathrock of Mighty Sphinc­ter, Specimen’s Bat­cave thrashi­ness, the art­sy weird­ness of Red Wed­ding and ear­ly 4AD stal­warts Mass.” It’s a very 80s mix, but unless you were dig­ging deep in the crates of alter­na­tive record stores at the time, few names may be famil­iar. The Birth­day Par­ty shows up, and a band called Kom­mu­ni­ty FK that had a very minor hit. For­mer Sex Pis­tol John Lydon’s Pub­lic Image Ltd. appears with their pound­ing rant “Reli­gion II.” The Vir­gin Prunes also make the cut, num­ber 42 in the mix—a very much over­looked, and very dis­turb­ing band, often only known for their child­hood and fam­i­ly asso­ci­a­tion with U2. Find a com­plete list of the tracks at the bot­tom of this page.

It is over­all, I think, an excel­lent way to approach “goth”—or one def­i­n­i­tion of it—free from the wardrobe squab­bles and gen­er­a­tional con­de­scen­sion. The mix, writes Secret Thir­teen, isn’t intend­ed as “ency­clo­pe­dic or antho­log­i­cal” in nature, but is “rather pre­sent­ed as a nar­ra­tive with unex­pect­ed twists and turns show­cas­ing a wide vari­ety of ele­ments, moods.” Sort of like a good sto­ry by Poe, or a good B hor­ror movie.

via Elec­tron­ic Beats

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Mas­sive 800-Track Playlist of 90s Indie & Alter­na­tive Music, in Chrono­log­i­cal Order

The 120 Min­utes Archive Com­piles Clips & Playlists from 956 Episodes of MTV’s Alter­na­tive Music Show (1986–2013)

Stream 15 Hours of the John Peel Ses­sions: 255 Tracks by Syd Bar­rett, David Bowie, Siouxsie and the Ban­shees & Oth­er Artists

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Hear Marc Maron’s Long Talk with Werner Herzog

herzog and maron

Image by Erinc Salor and The Nec­es­sary Evil, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Heads up: In the lat­est episode of the WTF pod­cast, film­mak­er Wern­er Her­zog pays a vis­it to Marc Maron’s garage in Los Ange­les, and they get into a wide-rang­ing con­ver­sa­tion, talk­ing about Her­zog’s upbring­ing in war-torn Ger­many, his upcom­ing film projects and a good deal more. But inevitably they focus on Her­zog’s new film, a med­i­ta­tion on the inter­net and tech­nol­o­gy called Lo And Behold: Rever­ies Of The Con­nect­ed World, which opens in the­aters this Fri­day. You can also watch it at home.

Feel free to stream Maron and Her­zog’s con­ver­sa­tion below. It starts around the 33:30 mark. Or hear it over at Maron’s web­site.


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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wern­er Her­zog Will Teach His First Online Course on Film­mak­ing

Wern­er Herzog’s Rogue Film School: Apply & Learn the Art of Gueril­la Film­mak­ing & Lock-Pick­ing

Wern­er Her­zog Picks His 5 Favorite Films

33 Songs That Document the History of Feminist Punk (1975–2015): A Playlist Curated by Pitchfork

Women have always been cen­tral to punk rock, even though they had to fight very hard to get and stay there. As vet­er­an punk jour­nal­ist and musi­cian Vivien Gold­man writes at Pitch­fork, “Resis­tance to our exis­tence was an acknowl­edged fact of life.” And yet, “punk freed female musi­cians,” she argues. She knows of what she speaks, hav­ing observed first­hand the “lad­dist boys­town” of rock before punk broke bar­ri­ers for women, and hav­ing been a part of that bar­ri­er-break­ing her­self. Gold­stein’s essay intro­duces us to a playlist (stream it above) com­piled by the Pitch­fork staff called “The Sto­ry of Fem­i­nist Punk in 33 Songs,” which in a way acts as a crit­i­cal com­ple­ment to a recent pub­lish­ing trend.

In the past few years, we’ve learned a lot about what cen­tral moments in punk looked like in mem­oirs from big names like Son­ic Youth’s Kim Gor­don, the Slits’ Viv Alber­tine, and Sleater-Kinney’s Car­rie Brown­stein. In Girl in a Band: A Mem­oir, Gor­don describes scrap­ing by in the “postapoc­a­lyp­tic hell” of New York cir­ca 1979; Albertine’s book shows us the “aston­ish­ing lev­el of vio­lence” the Slits faced on the streets of Lon­don around the same time; and Brownstein’s auto­bi­og­ra­phy immers­es us in the mid-90s Pacif­ic North­west scene and her band’s attempt to “expand the notion of what it means to be female.”

That’s not even to men­tion Pat­ti Smith’s Nation­al Book Award-win­ning mem­oir or Kath­leen Han­na’s pub­lic remem­brances. The wave of press does risk obscur­ing some­thing cru­cial, how­ev­er; punk has always had its stars, but its pri­ma­ry appeal has been that any­one, no mat­ter who, can do it, and all of the women above began in that spir­it. Even if many of the women who left their stamp on ear­ly and lat­er punk did not become famous, their fans remem­ber them, as do the many thou­sands of peo­ple who heard them and then went out to start their own bands.

But the angle in Pitch­fork’s com­pi­la­tion is not sim­ply “women in punk.” Their 33-song playlist fol­lows the spe­cif­ic thread of what they call “fem­i­nist punk,” mean­ing “songs that make their fem­i­nist mes­sages clear—not just songs by punks who are fem­i­nists.” The rubric means that in addi­tion to all of the artists men­tioned above, and obscure bands like The Bags and The Brat, the all-male Fugazi get a men­tion for their song “Sug­ges­tion,” in which Ian MacK­aye sings from a woman’s per­spec­tive about “the aggres­sive objec­ti­fi­ca­tion of women’s bod­ies.” The song is a “tent­pole for male fem­i­nism in punk,” and we can think of it as a kind of benign tokenism and an impor­tant moment for oth­er male punk bands who fol­lowed suit in denounc­ing the patri­archy.

The playlist spans four decades, begin­ning with Pat­ti Smith in 1975 and end­ing with Down­town Boys in 2015. The best-known artists hap­pen to arrive in the late 70s and the mid-90s (Han­na makes the list thrice with three dif­fer­ent bands). Not coin­ci­den­tal­ly, these are the moments—in Eng­land and the U.S.—when fem­i­nist punks made the most noise, and Gold­man points out just how much the women in these eras had in com­mon:

Because women’s con­tri­bu­tions are so often hid­den from her­sto­ry, when the riot grrrl move­ment began in Amer­i­ca, those women were vir­tu­al­ly unaware that their UK sis­ters had been fight­ing par­al­lel bat­tles two decades ear­li­er. But the Amer­i­cans were way bet­ter fund­ed and orga­nized than we had been, lurch­ing through no-woman’s‑land to make our­selves heard. It took awhile before Kurt Cobain cham­pi­oned the Rain­coats and Son­ic Youth bond­ed with the Slits.

Punk may be dead, or it may remain what Gold­stein calls the “glob­al music of rebel­lion.” Either way, Pitchfork’s playlist—with its crit­i­cal com­men­tary on each selection—offers young female artists mak­ing music in their bed­rooms a sense of con­ti­nu­ity with a long line of most­ly DIY fem­i­nist punks who made “fis­sures and cracks, some crum­bling walls” in the edi­fice of rock’s boy’s club. Gold­man warns her tar­get readers—who so clear­ly are those young bed­room gui­tarists, singers, pro­duc­ers, etc.—against com­pla­cen­cy, but also leaves them with some clear, con­cise advice: “Where pos­si­ble, please cre­ate a com­mu­ni­ty with com­ple­men­tary skills. Nowa­days, it often starts online. Still, try and find a way to actu­al­ly, phys­i­cal­ly be with your new cre­ative cohorts. Because noth­ing beats jam­ming with your sis­ters.”

See Pitch­fork for the full, anno­tat­ed playlist with Goldman’s intro­duc­tion and hear the full playlist in order at the top of the post.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Four Female Punk Bands That Changed Women’s Role in Rock

Chrissie Hynde’s 10 Pieces of Advice for “Chick Rock­ers” (1994)

Pat­ti Smith Doc­u­men­tary Dream of Life Beau­ti­ful­ly Cap­tures the Author’s Life and Long Career (2008)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Oliver Sacks Explains the Biology of Hallucinations: “We See with the Eyes, But with the Brain as Well”

We all under­stand that hal­lu­ci­na­tion involves see­ing things that aren’t real­ly there, but what are hal­lu­ci­na­tions them­selves? “They don’t seem to be of our cre­ation. They don’t seem to be under our con­trol. They seem to come from the out­side, and to mim­ic per­cep­tion.” Those words come from Oliv­er Sacks, who would know. We fea­tured a short clip of him dis­cussing what he learned from his per­son­al expe­ri­ence with LSD and amphet­a­mines back in 2012, when his book Hal­lu­ci­na­tions had just come out. He died almost exact­ly three years lat­er — and there­fore just under a year ago — leav­ing behind a body of work from which we all stand to gain much under­stand­ing of the work­ings of the brain, as illu­mi­nat­ed by both its nor­mal and abnor­mal states.

In this 2009 TED Talk on what hal­lu­ci­na­tions reveal about our minds, Sacks tells of his expe­ri­ences with one patient, elder­ly and blind, who kept “see­ing” visions of “peo­ple in East­ern dress, in drapes, walk­ing up and down stairs.” Anoth­er, with lim­it­ed eye­sight, ” said she saw a man in a striped shirt in a restau­rant. And he turned around. And then he divid­ed into six fig­ures in striped shirts, who start­ed walk­ing towards her. And then the six fig­ures came togeth­er again, like a con­certi­na.” Anoth­er, with a small tumor on the occip­i­tal cor­tex, “would see car­toons. These car­toons would be trans­par­ent and would cov­er half the visu­al field, like a screen. And espe­cial­ly she saw car­toons of Ker­mit the Frog.”

Sacks con­nects all this to some­thing called Charles Bon­net syn­drome, first described by the nat­u­ral­ist of that name in 1760. Bon­net’s grand­fa­ther, who’d had cataract surgery (and 18th-cen­tu­ry cataract surgery at that), said he saw things like hand­ker­chiefs and wheels float­ing in midair. These hal­lu­ci­na­tions work dif­fer­ent­ly than psy­chot­ic ones, which “address you. They accuse you. They seduce you. They humil­i­ate you. They jeer at you.” But Charles Bon­net syn­drome pro­duces an expe­ri­ence more like watch­ing a film — a term Sacks’ patients could use to describe it, though obvi­ous­ly nobody could have in Bon­net’s day.

Bon­net, Sacks con­cludes, “won­dered how, think­ing about these hal­lu­ci­na­tions, as he put it, the the­ater of the mind could be gen­er­at­ed by the machin­ery of the brain. Now, 250 years lat­er, I think we’re begin­ning to glimpse how this is done.” Thanks to Sacks’ inspi­ra­tion of suc­ceed­ing gen­er­a­tions of neu­ro­sci­en­tif­ic researchers, that glimpse of how we “see with the eyes, but with the brain as well” will only widen.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Oliv­er Sacks’ Last Tweet Shows Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” Mov­ing­ly Flash­mobbed in Spain

This is What Oliv­er Sacks Learned on LSD and Amphet­a­mines

Oliv­er Sacks Con­tem­plates Mor­tal­i­ty (and His Ter­mi­nal Can­cer Diag­no­sis) in a Thought­ful, Poignant Let­ter

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.


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