Major panthole appeared weeks ago in critical sector of second starter in the jeans rotation. Have ignored it for some time, but original hope of pant platelets coming to the rescue is rapidly fading.
In other news, I had a conversation with TK about Prop K. Am I a bad liberal for being opposed to it? I’m all for legalizing/regulating prostitution for the health and safety of the Ps, but is stripping law enforcement of their power really the solution? What gets me is the sex trafficking angle. The whole things seems ill-conceived in the same way as—but potentially more harmful than—the bevvy of measures on each ballot that read something like, “Shall it be city policy that if it’s yellow, we should let it mellow Alcatraz should be converted into a cookie farm?”
See you in four months, I regret this post,
I get spotty internet in my bedroom. This blog suffers as a result. I never watch movies at home. Tonight I’m finishing I’M NOT THERE (2007). Here is a new dessert that is very popular among me:
- one ripe banana, preferably not the last one
- cut it, unpeeled, in half
- put a generous spoonful of peanut butter in a blue Deomcracy Now! mug that has to be at least 10 years old.
- Peel the banana half and throw it in the mug with a studied carelessness
- think better of it and peel the other half of the banana. Throw that in there, too. It’s almost dessert time.
- take the same spoon you used to get the PB and start wreaking havoc in the mug. every peanut butter atom must be smashed into every banana atom until there are only nuclear dessert molecules (???)
- watch a movie in your room
there you have it folks. This is what this blog would be like all the time if I got the internet more reliably in my room. do you want to hear about the “Four Hours of Sleep Egg Salad” I made yesterday? If yes, click here.
This blog post brought to you by the best child actor who ever lived, age 11, raised on New York’s upper west side by a legally married Fran Drescher and Fran Leibowitz. Tama Janowitz is their live-in maid. I am the doorman. Goodnight.
I was kinda knocked out by this photo in yesterday’s NYT:
Taken at Hofstra University, getting pumped up for last night’s debate. The turquoise facepaint, the green grass, black faces, blue robes in the distance; black uniforms with red highlights; the 2nd photographer in the foreground calling attention to the composition of the whole thing… I was amazed when the accompanying article wasn’t about race, or… photography, or… America. It was about how the campus was excited for the debate.
Can anyone recommend any worthwhile essays on race and color photography? There must be a Sontag or a Sante essay floating around somewhere. Or is this just a minor riff on “color” I’m forcing?
A couple things associatively, aleatorically spring to mind. I will share them with you now.
1. African Americans in William Eggleston’s photos, the South in the 60s… the photographic idea of “contrast”: plus a racial contrast?? I need some help here. I need to go back to college.
I remember reading somewhere, someone reviewing Boogie Nights when it came out (I want to say Glenn Kenny in Premiere, I can’t remembe. I also can’t find, for the life of me, a still from the scene he mentioned–) the scene where Don Cheadle is wearing a white suit in a donut shop and someone (?) gets shot. Blood splatters all over white-suited Cheadle as he’s holding a box of donuts. The critic in Premiere or wherever says something like “the scene is a literalized riff on the joke what’s black and white and red all over?
This baffled me in high-school when I read it. But stuck with me, too. I really wish I had a still of that scene right now. email me if you “have one,” or anything else. OK, talk to you later,
image thanks to prof. silberblasttt