everything_is_a_million_things cooper rasha Most things in our red, shiny toolbox are made to deceive gravity, even if only for a moment. They are naive, beautifully innocent artifacts that sincerely believe they can defeat the magnetic power of the center of the Earth. Maybe, we think, they are wise in their innocence. There seems to be no way around gravity, that force that obscurely runs our destinies as well as the direction of everything around us. Even as we feel its pull constantly keeping us attached to the ground we fantasize about being relieved of its power: as in outer-space, floating freely like astronauts or asteroids in an ever-growing vacuum. But tools were born from human hands, long before we formulated this constant pull as an equation that runs the Universe. Maybe they are part of the best of us, the most human part: not the belief that we can overcome forces bigger than ourselves but a reminder that such forces are our own invention and that our imagination is vast and ever-growing, just like the vacuum of outer-space. Here are some things in our toolbox: A carpenter’s pencil. A pencil made to fit the side of your ear that is also a ruler. It will never be painted in the same color as wood, but in an unexpected color, unavoidable to the eye between all the wood parts. With its graphite not shaped as a circle, but as a rectangle: friend of thick rulers and of blueprints, respectful of the wood’s grain and flow. With no pointy ends to harm it. Good for drawing volumes, almost asking for a shadow to be traced in everything. Sandpaper. Bruno Munari says in his book The Sea As a Craftsman that “sand is like sandpaper without the paper”. Think of sandpaper as a way to replace the sea and eons of time, allowing something to erode, and as a way to concentrate that erosion in particular places, so that everything doesn’t come off looking like a pebble. Maybe that explains why one should always sand in circular movements, like a sea-wave messing with a stone. A piece of Japanese rope. The texture of its separated strings is hard, twisted and ugly like a piece of hair in a bowl of food. Tying the whole thing into a knot makes the hands burn a little and an uncomfortable feeling of humidity arise from the fingers. It doesn’t hold simple shoe-tie knots well, but if you make the right knot it will never untie. That’s what all that friction is for. The tricky part is finding the right knot. A horse-shoe shaped red magnet. Bought just because it was so irresistibly pretty and admirably potent. It’s great for when nails fall on the ground or get lost. For learning about the wonders of magnetic powers one could choose two ways: reading about them in the encyclopedia of choice or playing with magnets for a day or two. One will show us the wonderful complexity of its name and its invisible forces, the other will make us feel as powerful as mythological gods. They also make the best imaginable keychains (but not too practical if you usually carry metal things in your pockets.) Rubber-bands. Rubber is not plastic. It is tree sap. That was common knowledge until not too long ago; it might still be obvious to a lot of readers. Rubber bands are not a plastic product and are therefore part of the kingdom of what can degraded, eaten and corroded by microorganisms. Rubber is also part of the kingdom of exploitation and colonization, like sugar cane, refined sugar and many other seemingly harmless items. Today we are so convinced that we can retrace our foot-steps to achieve a politically conscious world of consumerism, that we forget just how elastic and variable politically correct standards are, stretching until one day they’ll snap like a rubber band and take our eyes out. Hammers. Although its proportions and materials have been refined, hammers belong to the realm of our most primeval impulses: banging things. Bang them together, bang them apart, bang them until they bleed or turn them to pulp. Underneath this simple action lies a fundamental law of physics: the force you exert on a body is simultaneously made by it in the opposite direction with equal strength. A ruler. Deep down, I wonder if centimeters are related to us in the same way heart-beats are related to seconds. The best pair of pliers in the world: Keiba P-107. They have a reddish-orange handle, with hundreds of thin grooves criss-crossing in various directions, enhancing the grip. The handle is generous in length, allowing for your whole palm to rest in it. And just as your hand grips the handle, the tip of the pliers grip everything, anything. It can separate nails that have been hammered deep into wood, and bring them out again into the light. Nails. Let’s trust in nails again. It seems no-one does these days. Everywhere it’s screws, twisted little things. What has happened to the well-driven nail in a piece of wood or even a brick wall? Almost everywhere nails have lost their dignity, with their blunt, badly shaped edges—spat out in thousands by some machine. 130124 ... sardines I say that it is a good thing to be awake and young and not some translucent gathering of very small particles. But we are all made of very small particles, which is what you tell me as you breathe without thinking like you always do. 130207 what's it to you? who go blather from