"DEAR LEADER"

Fiona, this is confusing…!

Long lines, unavoidably try, yours and mine. As a result, I have always tried to anticipate such times to reduce the strain on this psyche of mine and have always made sure that there is a book, a New Yorker or an iphone somewhere in my gunnysack. As soon as it starts to form behind some imaginary line, I pull it out and wile away the time (sounds dirty too, how fine!).

Thereupon, I came to realize that the unavoidable conclusion was that I relied too much on the iphone for such interneted diversions. On that account, I’ve decided to both read and absorb Deadwood and the New Yorker at the same time. I was skeptical at first that this here multi-task might better be left to womens, but to my great surprise, I was able to focus on both tasks, at, and for once. One draw back, to these exercises, is that I seem more prone to ignoring some of the finer lines gracing the King of Thai’s lovely, larb dispensing gals.

By Deadwood, I mean the HBO series of the same mind, not the lack of erectile. I had begun watching Deadwood a year or two ago but never made it passed the first couple times; despite the fact that I relished the screen writing, acting and cinematography, but more on that.

Anyway, as I was watching season one’s eight episode while reading the New Yorker review of “Michael Clayton’; I was struck by David Denby’s first pronouncements: ” It’s forever being drummed into us that movies are a visual medium. Screenwriters are chastised with this half-truth all the time”.
And as I read this, here I was, relishing Deadwood’s language and wondering wether it was cut because it seems to rely so heavily on the characters’ great lines. May be it was the screenwriter’s aptitude at language which doomed it this time. Deadwood seems to rely almost entirely on the power of the written lines. No doubt the acting and the sets are finely tuned pieces of professional knack but it seems obvious that the whole series revolves around a writer’s finely tuned craft. Rising tides lift all crafts, taking the rest of the crew on this ride.

I think I became aware of this once I realized that most of the action takes place behind closed doors, whereas the landscape, universal staple of the American Western is relegated to the background, as if the entire series was shot with just one short focal eye. Hardly ever, does the camera wonder outside, giving us an acutely un-western sense of drama. The anguish and trauma of the camp, the single mindedness of these prospecting hands does not stop to take in the panorama. The whole series, at least what I’ve seen of it now, concentrates on its human characters’ enforced drama. Removing the sublime from their daily lives it reinforces the sub-prime and enforces claustrophobia. Not a bad way to eat pork larb, multi-task or wait in line.

In other news: You can now buy mangosteens in America. For some reason the Agriculture department had prevented their importation for a very long time. Fortunately, they are now gracing Chinatown’s fruit salad.

I just wanted to introduce the work of Jean de la Fontaine. Please excuse my lack of mastery but you should appreciate his: Jean de la Fontaine was a 17th century French fabulist, who wrote, in part, to satirize Louis the fourteenth’s absolute authority. He is still, to this day, one of my favorite authors.

Ironically I was once forced, at the end of a stick, to commit his works to memory, all the while wondering why they so blatantly gave me the very stick, I would some day use to return my favorite kind of justice: “Satire”.So without further ado, a belated thank you to all those so called educated pricks my childhood was so generously peppered with. For the rest of you, especially if you speak French, I link to you the works of JDLF, as he is sometimes acronym-ly known. Sweet music to cauliflowered ears.

Found this busty lady while surfing the “Dictionary dot com”. Sometimes the pursuit of knowledge leads right back to these ICBMs. Nonetheless, I have to admit, I like the idea that somewheres, out there in the Bible belt, that this is as close as some student will ever get to ogling breasts, print this page, and run to pleasure thyself…!

More website peregrinations. I continue redesigning the redesign. Need to go to Ikea to pick up a full length mirror and work facing my reflection. I think I’ll like that. The artist at work, peeking round the monitor to make sure he still loves him. Sweet…..

Here is an example of an abusive mind thinking aloud, itself the result of an overactive mind unable to stop itself from marveling at other minds cluster fucking themselves into their own personally abusive and mindfully cluttered and redundantly descriptive bits.

While brushing my teeth last night I read:

Take the feeling of clean to the extreme:

* Showers your whole mouth – teeth, gums and breath.
* Dynamic foaming action seeks out hard to reach places – even the back of your tongue – fighting the sources of bad breath.
* Teeth feel clean & smooth. Your whole mouth is energized with an icy cool, sparkling feeling that lasts long.
* “…..product name….” Extreme Clean Whitening Mint Experience (all capitalized) also whitens your teeth.

and then I think:

I don’t know why but reading this makes me want to overeat, stop brushing my fucking teeth, move to New Mexico and feast on the rotting carcasses of fat, bearded, behind the counter Calumet photographic sales associates. Makes every contrariant hair, bristle on the back of my horse’s hair. I think the mind works in wondrously mysterious and hypnotic ways.

Tags: adverse, antagonistic, antipathetic, clashing, contrariant, contrary, disconsonant, discordant, discrepant, dissonant, incompatible, incongruent, incongruous, inconsistent, inconsonant, opposed, opposing, paradoxical, unfavorable, unmixable

I had never enjoyed texting until I got the iphone. Here is an excerpt  from a recent conversation with a special someone. Yeah, yeah, I know I am supposed to be blogging about photography but I am a multi faceted human being, what can I say, I have other interests !

O(that’s me): “Brunch with captain hairy”
Z: “Jealous, Have fun”!
O:”Look how she writes back when she wants to….!!!!”
Z:”It’s the weekend”
O:”Whatever, I’ll give you the weekend. What if I just wanted to chat it up with you, wench?”
O:” …., not so interesting!”
Z:”yippeeeee!!!
Z:”oh, and I’d chat anytime wit jew…Reading kathy ryan’s rag right now.”
O:”you mean NYtimes?”
Z:”yup….”
O:”Whata fuck? Where you at?”
Z:”gone, u need something?”
O:”Some skanky pussy!”
Z:”No problemo!”
O:”Happy saknkping, get some dickie o! We tally monday.”
Z:”24″definetely! Thank you muchly..-xo”
O:”you all set up with the lap dog. At a special price. address and credit card.”
Z:”OMG!Ok, headed to my next mtg and will email in a fewhrs, that ok, or do you need info texted for asap?”
O:”later iz okay”
Z:”Gaciass Olau”.
O:”Arnut basat kilo !”
Z:”Quoi? Limited intelligence, remember?”
O:”I know.”

The End.

A year or so ago, I turned my boys on , Raphael, 12 and Gabriel 9, to South Park. That’s right, call social services. Of course they ran with it, quite the little YouTube ogling freaks they are now proving to be.

Anyway, this morning, while looking out the window, a more than usual stream of obsenities came wafting out of the computer’s sound system. Being the concerned father that I is, I quickly rushed over, to participate in the festivities.

Anyway, from my boys to yours. Enjoy, the Fred Asstair bit in particcular. The English version with nordic Swedish looking language subtitles, and of course the all importantFrench Canadian clip.