[sic] semper tyrranis (13. 185)

Called “the slit-nosed”—ὁ Ῥινότμητος, ho Rhīnótmētos—though likely not to his face, Justinian II, last Byzantine emperor of the Heraclian dynasty, a period of transition that saw the cultural shift from Roman antiquity to medieval and Turkic and who first reigned from 785 to 695, exiled because of unpopular tax policies, deposed, his nose cut off and exiled to Cherson in Crimea and returned to the throne in 705 with the help of his supporters and Khazar authorities eager to be rid of this liability to the theme (θέμα, an administrative district of the Empire) who helped him to get back to Constantinople on a fishing boat, with the backing of Bulgarian dissidents and enthroned, fronting a nasal prothesis made of solid gold, on this day in 706, having tracked down his predecessors (the one before his first term and the one from his interregum) and political rivals, had them brought in chains to the hippodrome on this day in 706, trod on their necks and ordered them to be execution by beheading, along with multitudes of their partisans as well as blinding banishing the patriarch. His second reign marked by unsuccessful military adventures against the Khanate of Bulgaria and the Caliphate—with the former playing a pivotal role in his return to power and now Byzantium turning against his allies, whom had also provided Justinian with a bride, renamed Theodora after the wife of his namesake, and cruel suppression of his opposition, imposing the pope in Rome’s authority over the rump state of Ravenna and indirectly causing the Great Schism with puppet papacy. An uprising in Cherson itself saw Justinian taken capture and executed on the fourth of November of the year 711) five insufferable years later), his disembodied head being put on public display in Ravenna as well as in Rome. Upon hearing of his death, heir apparent Tiberius and regnant mother sought sanctuary in a church but were dragged from the altar and killed, thus ensuring the end of the family line.

unterfladungen (13. 184)

Taking advantage of the sunny weather and with less of a bite to the winter wind, we followed a trail from Fladungen up the gentle slope of the Wurmberg, a southern spur of the Abstberg hill between the villages of Sands and Brüchs, the latter named for the historical quarrying activity of the settlement. 

Along the way, and to this day I think about that psychedelic animated short from Sesame Street about the lost boy remembering his way home, “Try to remember everything you passed, but when you go back, make the first thing the last”—that’s some genuine memory palace advice, we were afforded some really nice vistas of the town in the valley below, a pair of friendly donkeys in an enclosure, the foundations of a demolished coke oven that was testament to the area’s mining history and an the open pit hewn out of the hillside as we made our way to the edge of the forested summit. 

In the middle, there was a clearing with the Stations of the Cross arranged in a circle, like the Kreuzweg of the chapel visible on the horizon looking back over Fladungen with a large wooden Crucifix, Hohe Kreuz. 

We descended from the peak via a shorter route through a neighbourhood and around a spa resort perched on the mountainside, so so much for my landmarks but nonetheless an enjoyable walk with opportunities to explore further.

9x9 (13. 183)

chinamaxxing: sinophiles dominate online forums  

next sunday a.d.: Mystery Science Theater 3000 to reunite almost all of the original cast and crew  

blue monday: analysis of the quintessential 80s drum beat  

sol invictus: unique Mithraic altars uncovered in Scotland go on display—see previously  

bloqueo: US regional tactics fomenting rebellion in Cuba—see previously—with siege strategy  

the golden road: Sanskrit and Tamil inscriptions uncovered in ancient Egyptian tombs 

orchestral strike: you know this sound but not its name  

just to be safe, here’s a scrollfrog: Cabel Sasser on one of the most incredible XOXO talks ever—see previously—via Waxy 

lilliputian hallucinations: a common dietary mushroom, if undercooked, causes diners to see tiny humans on their plates—via Kottke

synchronoptica

one year ago: a papal bull on artificial intelligence (with synchronpticæ), the purge of US civil servants plus the foundations of ancient London

thirteen years ago: horsemeat and an explosive meteor 

fourteen years ago: a mascot for the eurozone plus a Vatican political thriller

fifteen years ago: sovereign debt 

seventeen years ago: lint eggs from the laundry fairy 

 

fondation vasarely (13. 182)

Dedicated on this day in 1976 with its inaugural opening, the architectonic museum in Aix en Provence showcases the pioneering Op Art designs of Victor Vasarely (see previously) and promote his vision of making the arts accessible for all and founding a city of tomorrow. Forty two six by eight metre cells constructed in situ house various exhibits. Coming out of the Bauhaus school tradition, the Hungarian-French artists went on to produce abstract paintings, cladding, façades and sculptures that referenced optical illusions as a sort of visual kinetics (plastique cinétique) that relied on the shifting perception of the viewer—a stylistically satisfying middle-ground between the moving artwork of Calder, Duchamp and Man Ray and the disorientating MC Escher.

etaoin shrdlu, esaitn ruoldc (13. 181)

Again via Web Curios, we are pointed to an addictive little bilingual (I wasn’t up to trying in French however) word game that is agreeably one of the best we’ve come across in some time and as likely to return to after our streak with Wordle clones. Simple and straightforward, each round presents three lettered tiles to build words from in order of the letters presented and are awarded points based on Scrabble rules, in turn derived from the titular letter frequency. There are daily challenges and play can continue with random combinations. Gently timed, once one runs out of chances, there’s a break down of one’s score and the optimal word from the dictionary, though one can’t dispute the lexicon.

a child of europe (13. 180)

Although greeted with relief and applause, mounting the low-bar of last year’s gathering which seemed like the nadir of transatlantic relations with much transpiring in the intervening twelve months, the tone of the speech delivered by US secretary of state Marco Rubio on the second day of the Munich Security Conference was hardly conciliatory and sent the telegraphed the same message of no partnership among equals but rather an alliance framed in Trump’s vision and terms. Saying the president did not want a weakened continent saddled with guilt and shame, Rubio went on, “We in America have no interest in being polite and orderly caretakers of the West’s managed decline”—seeking not to cause division but to revitalise and renew civilisation, stoking old tropes of racisms and xenophobia and replacement. “What we want is a reinvigorated alliance that recognises that what has ailed our societies is not just a set of bad policies but a malaise of hopelessness and complacency”—citing as among those shared historic missteps for which now the US has made amends was the “climate cult,” prioritising the welfare state over national defence, globalisation and a belief in staid institutions no longer fit for purpose, with a final plug for Trump’s Board of Peace as a more effective and agile replacement for the United Nations. These are hardly soothing words.

destot’s space (13. 179)

In a round-about vocabulary lesson (courtesy of Curious Notions—such a journey down rabbitholes is referred to as a desire path as a metaphorical extension of an unplanned trail caused by foot-traffic as a shorter route, and now one can better document those strayings in Wikipedia at least—though often not short-cuts), we learn that the eponymous anatomical feature of the human wrist is named for the Lyonnaise sculptor, anatomist and pioneering radiologist Étienne Destot. Within months after Röntgen announced his discovery of clinical uses for x-rays, our good doctor was taking thousands of diagnostic radiographs of patients (see also) to develop better treatment strategies and in many cases eliminating red herrings to tackle true ailments.  Destot’s enthusiastic adoption of the new technology, however, led to severe radiation damage in his hands, forcing him to abandon his work and his eventual death. The namesake void the doctor identified through crisper x-ray imaging of the hands between the hamate and lunate bones is not chiefly cited in medical literature, but rather for discussing the critical historicism of Jesus, proposing that this was the site of the stigmata during the Crucifixion—the study, quest (quête) as an academic effort started by contemporary Alsatian physician and fellow multi-hyphenate Albert Schweitzer. For his contributions to medical science and lab safety, Destot is commemorated along with the Curies, inscribed on the Monument to the X-Ray and Radium Martyrs of All Nations on the campus of Sankt Georg Hospital in Hamburg along with some one hundred sixty other doctors, chemists, physicists, technicians and assistants who sacrificed their lives in the advancement of medical science commissioned by the Deutsche Röntgengesellschaft in 1936. The memorial was expanded in 1959 to include the names of many of the victims of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

supercluster (13. 178)

Though finding PfRC’s rather standoffish and neglected handle, via Web Curios, in the vast undifferentiated Bermuda Triangle between the Creative Portfolios Gallery, the Canadian Nature & Arts Scatter and the Geometry Dash Arena, given our level of engagement with the platform and only occasionally checking-in, we’re not surprised our granularity hasn’t coalesced around a larger group. Not sure what kind of data connections feed these nodes and nebulae (see also for some more online geocaching) but certain those profiles more active on the site have found their niche and those they identify with—and whilst more interaction might shift one to the Highlands of Resistance or the Vale of Swedish Progressives or the German Antifa Expanse, there are social media bubbles topologically, cosmologically grouped (some mixed metaphors for invented topolects), enclaves and Twitter exodus exclaves but, thankfully no charted lands as refuges for toxic tribalism, shitposters and reply guys. Plug in your name and check out this map of Bluesky and get to know what’s in your local neighbourhood and constellation. Hopefully the network effect has taken hold and free exchange, journalism, fandom can be taken back from moribund and algorithmic platforms.