Friday, March 25, 2005

Today is the sort of birthdate of Sam. Born on Good Friday, he said, but April 13th (or not as records were sketchy and he sketched a nebulous picture) is allegedly the day. But all good Samophiles think of him today.

So, then, a snippet of Sam.
From The Unnamable, which I've been thinking of a great deal as of late.

I speak of evening, someone speaks of evening, perhaps it's stil morning, perhaps it's still night, personally I have no opinion. They love each other, marry, in order to love each other better, more conveniently, he goes to the wars, he dies at the wars, she weeps, with emotion, at having loved him, at having lost him, yep, marries again, in order to love again, more conveniently again, they love each other, you love as many times as necessary, as necessary in order to be happy.

And in the back of the book, a yellowed little Grove Press thing, I wrote this in pencil:
the girandole above
our fireplace is beige.

Onwards to Asian memories and conjurations and newsbits.
Time for an annual holiday-related dig this:

CUTUD, Philippines - Filipinos marked Good Friday by retracing Jesus Christ’s last steps and reliving his crucifixion with nails, whips and blood.
The gory rituals in several parts of the heavily Roman Catholic country are not sanctioned by the Church as part of Easter but have become a magnet for the curious and devout during a week of prayer, shopping, visiting and little work.
Go here to read the whole dang thang.

Every Good Friday I recall the excellent tri-fold card I designed for V showing the roasting of the dog moment in the Philippines whilst waiting for a boat for Bataan. The running, chasing, clubbing, roasting of said dog a Perfect visual for this day when the curtain mystically rended in two. Symbolistic stew and swirling of spirits to You.

Stewed Love, not prunes.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Well well well well well.
No, make that unwell unwell unwell unwell unwell.
Got a forwarded email from one pal who got one from a mutual pal who, after reading the meandering machinations, has sadly derailed. Toys in the attic. You know, nutty bumpers.
Lest you think you are secure with your toys in the toybox we are all bumping around on the bumper cars and one bad bump and kapoof = nutsoville. That is like so my theory and I rest my inquisitive case.
Speaking of cases, and to sound a bit like the aforementioned derailee, I could be in the midst of yet another cease and desist situ as I've created some neato merch based on my famed and inflamed and incensing Globe covershot showing Hill (as in Hillary, you know, former Mrs. Presidente) as Yours Truly loves to say Gripping the podium. Oh, if you really must know, or find, go searching at fercrissakes. It'll be our little easter egg hunt of sorts.
Speaking of the pagan-cum-christian blood ritual of Easter, tomorrow is Good Friday. This means that there will be mayhem at the bakery nearby as pastry munchers of all shapes (no, scratch that, the pastry munchers are of one shape) will be queued up for sugar, fat, raisins, shortening and such all tossed together to make treats of all shapes. Peeps, let us focus on peeps for a moment. Misshapen marshmallow birds.
Now let us focus on the green jelly beans.
Now the black.
Now the red.
God, no pun intended, I love Easter.

Love's Peeps.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Yours truly has NO VOICE. I am rendered speechless via some sort of laryngitic condition that, as a client just told me, is Going around. Not aware of this rampant voice-related pandemic, I guess I'll just go with that. Laryngitis. Me. Got a call from another client who kept asking Is this a bad time to my Who IS this in my nouvelle speaking squeak. Is this a bad time. Who is this. 3x. Finally she says who in hell she is. Finally I say I am fine, I just cannot speak. We agreed to communicate via email. Jonathan is on his way for a headshot shoot at my joint and I'm sure he'll keep a health conscious distance as did my last gig at noon.
Got a call from Beth Dearest who burst out laughing upon hearing my condition. Now you know how I felt the last time you were in the Shiney Apple she guffawed. Well, I wasn't laughing at you... I guess you are just mean-spirited. Just as well that she couldn't understand me. But she did manage to tell me that she's going on a date tonight and I'm not sure what genre of date it is but as with several other pals today we agreed to speak later. If possible.
Onwards to speechlessness, so not me.

Speech-impeded Love.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Lost entire last post as I was not officially logged in to Blogger and that like so comfreakingly sucks. Speaking of Nancyisms was talking to Beth Dearest moments ago and described the current Middling City snow as snow globe style. At first she thought that I was quoting a certified meteorologist. But no.
Told several at Middling City's Main Event last night that my new and luxe hair colour, purple haze awash over what was, is grape flavoured. Several smelled, some licked. To no avail. To my delight.
The new cut rocks as does its creator, Jon, who last night was in his vertically striped tapestry jeans, outdazzling his lady friend's ensemble by x2, a peril of dating a man who is a dresser.
Stopped by Jon's place yesterday brandishing a gift for him and after a spate of visiting to basically demand or request that he make me look better, he agreeing as he was up to his elbows in multi-layered blonde hair of a girl named Teal. Then the haze. Then the cut. Then the visiting with the interesting cast of characters, half of whom are engaged in the rock realm.
Just came from Bandmate Scott's gig as (whatwazzit, Hymen, Hytymnestra, Heteros) Hymns. Bad name. Good times. Then Aaron Miller - two short pieces via a program called Max........ somethin somethin and I asked how much and he said how high, no, but it was high, like about $700 so no go. I axed about a bootleg but he said impossible as it bonds with all things secretive on one's laptop and to that I say O, Really.
Had a gig early early today for a fam celebrating their mom's 90th bday and she was beyond confused and I wondered why in hell they were doing this, to prove their love, their tenacity, to weaken hers, who really does know.
Oh, the day is over and I've lost my voice and my homework is not done and I would like a cold remedy and a respite and a re re re ... joinder, fresher, membrance.
All for now and over and out.

Out Loved.