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Everything Must Fuckin’ Go…

January 9, 2012

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What can I say? The Japanese take their after-Christmas sales very, very seriously.

10 Comments
  1. January 11, 2012 10:55 AM

    I found this in the corridor, somebody must have dropped it – y.

  2. January 12, 2012 8:31 PM

    I was chatting away merrily at work today, tripping down memory lane about my student days in Galway and a particular man I met during my time there. He was about twelve years older than me; he had at that point already been married and separated – a bit of a wild man which is what attracted me to him in the first place. That and his pitch black beard and very brown eyes, which added to his mystery. Anyway, in the rosy glow of nostalgia, I googled his name on returning to my desk and the first hit was his death notice from two years ago. He died unexpectedly it said. Don’t know why I’m writing about it but I have been very disconcerted all day. I hadn’t met him for almost fifteen years but it was shocking to think he is not around any more.

    Urban Gypsy

    Slinking about side streets,
    Folded over in front of the fire in Annie Lee’s
    Smoking deeply

    Questionable denim jacket with lumberjack shirt cuffs a blinking
    Counterpoint to cheesecloth and dangly earrings

    Eyes that would make the most stony hearted novice
    Kiss her crucifix and fling off her knickers

    Fingers that could trace breathtaking patterns and swirls
    On frost and flesh, melting resistance

    Guinness on your moustache that night in The Crane
    Like a cat in snow, you purred and slunk and disappeared.

  3. Captain Ned permalink
    January 12, 2012 9:52 PM

    Nice one, Reine. Questionable is a word that ought to be used more often.

    Seldom has an apostrophe been the occasion of as much mirth as the ones in your picture, Mishari. Perhaps we ought to take it as a wry comment on the barrenness of consumerist excess.

  4. reine permalink
    January 12, 2012 11:21 PM

    Thanks Ned. Hope all is well with you wherever you are these days; I have an image of you as a latter day little prince at various spots around the (snow) globe encountering boa constrictors ….minus the same questionable outcome.

  5. Edward Taylor permalink
    January 13, 2012 10:52 PM

    just popping in for a minute or two.

    Here’s something by Marcus Coates. i don’t like all his work but this was stunning.

    He started off recording all the birds in a dawn chorus.

    He then slowed each individual bird-song down and taught people how to sing the song at that speed.

    He filmed them doing so then speeded the film up so you get these twitchy humans singing like birds.

    Each “bird” appears on its own video-screen so there were about 30 video-screens in the darkened room. The dawn chorus was then recreated in the same sequence and time as it would do in the wild.

    Why? well I don’t know why exactly but the result was fantastic.

    Thanks for your kind thoughts XB. My other half passed all her medical tests so we are none the wiser as to why she coughed up so much blood.

    Am busy and distracted for the next few weeks so like the Golden Oriole in the UK I’ll be an infrequent visitor to these shores.

  6. mishari permalink*
    January 14, 2012 7:27 AM

    Good stuff, Ed. Glad the missis is better…and just for contrast:

  7. mishari permalink*
    January 14, 2012 11:31 PM

    Wow…Frederica Sagor Maas, who wrote screenplays for silent films starring the likes of Clara Bow and Louise Brooks, has just died at the age of 111. Her obit is HERE

    This is a scene from The Plastic Age (1925), starring Clara Bow (the original ‘It Girl’) and Gilbert Roland. The screenplay was by Frederica Sagor Mass:

    • hic8ubique permalink
      January 15, 2012 2:16 AM

      Still savouring ‘peccant’ I have newfound appreciation for ‘gelid’. Well done, M.

      I like this from the Clara Bow link…
      “Don’t miss Wine. It’s a thoroughly refreshing draught … there are only about five actresses who give me a real thrill on the screen — and Clara is nearly five of them”
      ~
      Here is a little story from my friend, Ray, whose life was so interesting that when he said:
      “Have I told you this one before?” nobody ever wanted to stop him…

      After a concert, Ray and a friend went to a Boston diner that served breakfast all night long, and noticed Count Basie eating his meal at the counter. Soon after, a man came in, made the same observation and approached him saying: “Hey, you look just like Count Basie!”
      who then replied:
      “Yeah, I hear that a lot.”

      Then I told Ray the story of my friend who saw Lauren Bacall in a hotel in NYC and exclaimed:
      “You’re Lauren Bacall!” whereupon she replied drily:
      “Disappointing, isn’t it.”

      Ray enjoyed this anecdote so much that he recounted it to me afresh several times, having forgotten over the years where he’d heard it to begin with.

  8. mishari permalink*
    January 15, 2012 3:41 AM

    Is that the Ray your fine poem was memorialising?

    ‘Peccant’ is a good word, isn’t it? From the same Latin root as ‘peccadillo': ‘peccare‘ (to err).

    There’s an apocryphal story of General Napier, having conquered Sindh Province, sent a one-word telegram to the British govt: “Peccavi” (‘I have sinned’)…he didn’t but it’s a good story.

  9. hic8ubique permalink
    January 15, 2012 4:19 AM

    Yes, I’m adopting ‘peccant’, with a persistent little footnote crediting you.
    You remind me of a limerick I made long years ago…

    There lived once a princeling: Prince Napier,
    who rode all round his court on a tapir.
    When the courtiers jeered
    crying: “Isn’t he weird!”
    he ran them clean through with his rapier.

    Yes that is the very same dear Ray, ‘Raimondo Amici’, and a sad little poem on the day of his memorial, but you are generous as ever.
    You two would have got on with great gusto.

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