We're rare, we're first, or we're fucked.
Just read it. It's compelling. And my money is on rare and fucked. Accidents happen, doesn't mean they turn out well.
We're rare, we're first, or we're fucked.
While my workshop study answered some questions, it raised others. Why does creativity run in families? What is it that gets transmitted? How much is due to nature and how much to nurture? Are writers especially prone to mood disorders because writing is an inherently lonely and introspective activity? What would I find if I studied a group of scientists instead?
These questions percolated in my mind in the weeks, months, and eventually years after the study. As I focused my research on the neurobiology of severe mental illnesses, including schizophrenia and mood disorders, studying the nature of creativity—important as the topic was and is—seemed less pressing than searching for ways to alleviate the suffering of patients stricken with these dreadful and potentially lethal brain disorders. During the 1980s, new neuroimaging techniques gave researchers the ability to study patients’ brains directly, an approach I began using to answer questions about how and why the structure and functional activity of the brain is disrupted in some people with serious mental illnesses.
As I spent more time with neuroimaging technology, I couldn’t help but wonder what we would find if we used it to look inside the heads of highly creative people. Would we see a little genie that doesn’t exist inside other people’s heads?
Located in the Llechwedd caverns in Blaenau Ffestiniog, North Wales, Bounce Below is operated by adventure tourism company Zip World and offers visitors a chance to explore this huge underground hole in an exciting fashion -- with supplied safety helmets and overalls, of course.
Alternatively, it would be nice to see something like this created inside of a gutted old building rather than tearing it down.
Red Bull 400 is the steepest uphill race that takes place in Europe. It’s a tough 400-meter vertical sprint up the face of a ski-jump slope in Planica, Slovenia. 300 male and female contestants competed in this year’s 2013 event and pushed their muscles to the absolute limit, in an attempt to reach the top first.
Carl has put up with endless travel, silly jokes, countless assaults on his dignity, and my stumbling and stuttering away through shows right next to him, and all he ever has to say about it is, "I can't complain." He actually can't. After one of our tapings I challenged him to do it. I said, "Go ahead, Carl, you have a pass: Complain. Whine. Piss and moan about something. Nobody will hold it against you."
And Carl thought for a minute, he hemmed and hawed — it was the first time I ever saw him for a loss for words — and then he looked thoughtful and said, "You know, I really enjoy just about everything I do."
And so he does. This page has a small sample of what he's talking about, a tiny sliver of what makes Carl public radio's most dashing and beloved personality. - Peter Sagal
The Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong was once the densest place on earth, a virtually lawless labyrinth of crime, grime, commerce and hope. A Wall Street Journal documentary tracks its colorful legacy 20 years after its demolition.
The tiny village of Nagoro on Shikoku, Japan, used to be home to a large company and hundreds of people. Now, there are only 37 inhabitants — or at least, only 37 living inhabitants. Nagoro is also home to scores of life-size stuffed dolls made by 64-year-old Ayano Tsukimi. Tsukimi sews and dresses the dolls and positions them around town to replace her neighbors who have moved away or died.
Tsukimi started her doll project about 10 years ago, after she moved back to her hometown from Osaka. She says she’s made about 350 dolls in that time, though they only last about three years before they need to be replaced. There are now many times more dolls than humans living in Nagoro, and Tsukimi wryly imagines a future where she’s outlived all her neighbors and only dolls remain.