Stare.
 
2004 Notebook: Weak XLVIII
 
   
gratuitous image
27 November 2004
No. 3,623 (cartoon)
What will you do to make the world better?

Die.

28 November 2004
Neither Diary nor Blog
Sharon hit a tender semantic nerve when she told me that she never reads my diary.

“I abhor the contraction blog,” I replied, “and I certainly don’t publish a diary. I have a notebook, nothing more, nothing less.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sharon said, “I meant I didn’t read your insipid diarrhea of the mouth!”

“That sounds reasonable,” I agreed.

29 November 2004
An Unusual Death
Dr. Pupahrdhi told me a remarkable story about one of her clinic’s clients, a cantankerous old curmudgeon. She reported that when he died, the authorities reported he was found standing up.

“You mean he died and didn’t fall over?” I asked.

“Exactly,” she replied.

“How is that possible?” I wondered aloud.

“I’m trying to find out myself,” Dr. Pupahrdhi said.

Wow! He was a curmudgeon’s curmudgeon!

30 November 2004
On the Hinternet
Joyce asked me if I was lying about publishing my work on the Internet since she couldn’t find any trace of me there.

“I know exactly what happened,” I explained, “you searched the Internet, no?”

“Of course,” Joyce replied, sounding slightly more annoyed than usual.

“The Internet has been largely colonized by transnational corporate monopolies that have marginalized independent people like myself,” I explained.

“I hear you saying you were lying about having your work online,” Joyce concluded.

“Not at all,” I protested, “you may find my work on the Hinternet. Look it up.”

I wonder if there really is a(n) Hinternet?

1 December 2004
A Day Not Without Wretched Art
I received a simple, straightforward invitation to an opening tonight at San Francisco’s city hall.

    SF FACES 2.0
    40+ local photographers.
    100+ amazing photographs.
    FREE | free drinks. free food. free music.

Four occurrences of the word “free” caught my attention, so I took a short walk. When I arrived, all the food and drinks were gone, and I would have paid not to listen to the mediocre guitar player. The photographs, however, were amazing. Amazingly bad. I left after scanning the room for anyone I knew. My friends, all of whom are smarter than I am, had wisely stayed away.

Back at the lab after picking up some Rainier Ale, I whinged to Luis about the miserable event. When Luis suggested I was complaining too much, I had a rare moment of analytical clarity. I pointed out that tonight’s event had failed to satisfy any of the four reasons one might go to an art opening.

1. Socializing,
2. Drinking,
3. Eating, and, let us not forget,
4. Art.

Luis informed me that a number of well-intentioned people are trying to declare the first day of December to be “a day without art.” Apparently the folks who organized tonight’s event are among them, alas.

2 December 2004
Dears! Photographer, Painter and Mystic Man Frantisek Drtikol
Once upon a time, I made a little joke about being a “real” journalist.

Oops; big mistake.

Ever since then, I keep getting silly press releases, such as this one:

    Dears!

    We lite to point out a newly origineled internet domain concerning one of the big personalities of the modern art to the mid 20th century and dedicated to the Photographer, Painter and Mystic Man Frantisek Drtikol, this domain of all exhibited and written works here is for sale

    On the page you can find detailed information of his life and above all a presentation of alesser collection of his work. This collection is for the sale right now, because in wiev of the fad most of his work is already at the institution’s collection’s or private collectors, we suppose to be an extraordinary offer and that his work is appeared rather seldom and only in items. We also supposed that this complex offer is an exceptional opportunity at the fair with the art to be completed yours collection about the european important author.

Since I speak no European languages, I will never, ever make fun of anyone for their poor English. I will, however, celebrate their creativity. Should I ever send a press release, I shall certainly use the salutation, “Dears!”

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©2004 David Glenn Rinehart