Data Points and Proportions

From London

Had some good days in London. Monday, just did more wandering around. Had a cheap vegetarian lunch at a place called Futures. It was pretty mediocre, to be honest, but I'd give them another try if I were ever in the neighbourhood again. Went to the Tate Modern Art Museum, where I saw some lovely surrealist paintings and sculptures. There was one that was just a whole bunch of steamroller-flattened silver articles suspended from the ceiling by wire, arranged in the shapes of discs. You had to see it, I guess.

Made Cuz a curry meal for dinner from the veg I picked up in Borough market the other morning. Went over quite well, it did. Also had a glass of wine, which is the first alcoholic beverage I've had in a number of years. I think this is my restless body's way of saying it wants to experiment, so I'll not spend time analyzing or justifying it for now. I'm a little torn about the whole thing, the no-alcohol vs. controlled-alcohol thing, since I'm usually an all-or-nothing kind of person; but in context, it would be hard to argue that it was anything but harmless. Bah, there I went and analyzed and justified it after I said I wouldn't.

Yesterday I met with a CouchSurfer to see the Science and Natural History Museums. Got some good photos, which can be seen here:

London

Then I met with an old friend from Toronto and another CouchSurfer for a strange event at a place near the Science Museum called the Dana Centre, where they put on artistic and scientific events. There were different speakers talking about their imaging systems, which offer unique ways of looking at the human body. Then all attendees shuffled into another room for a life-drawing session with nude models. Good fun, I'd say. I then got my body scanned by a computer. I had to strip to my boxers (in a private curtained area) then step into the machine for the scanning procedure. Thought about stuffing my shorts with something, but opted against it. I like pranks and statements that are so over-the-top immature that they are actually a comment on masculine immaturity; That and making my wang look big.