Stare.
 
2004 Notebook: Weak XXVIII
 
   
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9 July 2004
No. 2,176 (cartoon)
I’m trembling with joy.

I think it’s fear.

There’s a difference?

10 July 2004
Behind Schedule
I woke up this morning with nothing to do today. It’s almost midnight, and I realize I’m not even half done. How can this be?

11 July 2004
A Descent Relationship
I know I really shouldn’t be prejudiced against people who can’t spell, since I’m one of them. But, alas, I am. And so it was that when Alex wrote that all he wanted in life was, “a descent relationship,” I fear he’ll get more or less what he asked for.

12 July 2004
Unpredictable Ales
Oscar’s sucking down cans of cold, juicy cans of Rainier Ale as if they were little beers.

“Most people I know would be messy drunk by now,” I observed. “You must have a high tolerance for alcohol.”

“Not really,” Oscar replied. “One can of this crap makes me legless. The problem is that I can never tell which one.”

13 July 2004
Twenty-Eight Days After Bhuto Dancing
I don’t know quite what to say after watching Doria perform in a bhuto dance ensemble tonight. On one hand, the dancers’ costumes of loose, tattered rags addressed one of my usual problems with dance. On the other hand, their ghoulish, white body paint and spastic body movements reminded me of the zombies in Twenty-Eight Days Later, a science fiction film I just saw a few days ago.

I wish I’d waited another week or two to see the film; I think I would have enjoyed it much more if I saw a post-apocalyptic world populated by rabid bhuto dancers.

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14 July 2004
Laura Splan
I’m very disappointed with the photographs I made of Laura Splan at her studio today. I suppose it’s a case of poor expectation management.

I think Laura’s a brilliant artist; I’ve always admired her work. I thought it would be easy to make a good photograph of her because she’s objectively beautiful, and because her work is both retinally and conceptually interesting. Laura makes incredible drawings with her blood; how could I go wrong?

I did. I made dull, predictable photographs of her at her drawing table, as if I was an unimaginative photojournalist. Part of the problem was that I’d expected the blood collection to be more visually interesting; I imagined an image of her slicing herself with a razor blade. Instead, she used a small, plastic medical device to make an almost invisible incision.

There’s really only one reason my photographs are so boring: I was too lazy to do the work necessary to make a good portrait. I need to get back to work.

15 July 2004
Reciprocal Appreciation
I never take Wilma’s praise seriously. Whenever she pays me a compliment, there’s always an awkward pause in the conversation when she looks at me with an expression of anticipation, as if she’s expecting a receipt.

16 July 2004
Binary Winnowing
Anna sent me a long diatribe about the idiots who make her life as a computer scientist a misery. She concluded by observing, “I suppose there are 10 kinds of people, those who understand binary and those who don’t.”

I replied, quoting that remark, and asked, “What about the other eight?”

Anna replied with a one-word response, “Exactly!”

I have no idea what she’s talking about; I really should know better than to correspond with people who are much smarter than me.

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©2004 David Glenn Rinehart