Stare.
 
2005 Notebook: Weak XLIX
 
   
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3 December 2005
No. 8,817 (cartoon)
Please help me out.

Which way did you come in?

4 December 2005
Face Transplant Optimism
I read that some poor French woman was permanently disfigured when her Labrador chewed off parts of her face. Another reason, as if one was needed, that dogs should remain in the wild from which they never managed to evolve.

Or, as it turns out, the injuries weren’t permanent after all. Doctors performed the first face transplant on the unfortunate woman. That’s good news for a couple of reasons. First, the miserable French woman will have the opportunity to resume a healthy life, i.e., one without a vicious mongrel in her house. Also, it’s good news if face transplants are practical; I could certainly use one.

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5 December 2005
Free Crack Pipe
As I got off the subway this afternoon, I glanced at my seat to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind. And that’s when I noticed a glass drug pipe jammed between the seat cushions. I grabbed the pipe and quickly hid it in my shoulder bag. I have no use for a drug pipe, but I do like to accommodate my friends’ whims.

When I got back to my studio, I examined my find and discovered that it wasn’t a marijuana pipe. Instead, the device appeared to be a delivery device for crack cocaine. Or, in lay terms, a crack pipe.

I don’t use crack cocaine, and my friends don’t either even though they may occasionally act like they do. And so, what shall I do with a perfectly functional crack pipe? I suppose I’ll treat it like an old computer or some other unneeded technology. If I put it on the street with a sign that says “free” taped to it, someone will take it within an hour.

Good riddance.

6 December 2005
Rethinking Books
I had a nice walk and a chat with Carrie last night. We talked about this, that, and the other thing. When she asked me if I’d read any good books lately, I confessed that I hadn’t read any books in quite some time.

When I asked Carrie if she’d read a good book recently, she replied, “my grandmother’s face.”

I must rethink my approach to books.

7 December 2005
Photographic Advancement Without Improvement
I just read a press release about the invention of a plenoptic camera that allows a photographer to shoot now and focus later. The announcement reminded me of Charles Sheeler’s observation, “Isn’t it remarkable how photography has advanced without improving?”

I’m not sure whether or not Sheeler was prescient. On one hand, his remark remains true forty years after his death. On the other hand, it’s been well over a century since photography has improved at all.

8 December 2005
Fifty-nine Stinkers
I went to the Fifty-Nine Seconds Festival tonight. I liked the format: fifty-nine films, each fifty-nine seconds long, made by fifty-nine different artists. I figured that at least one or two of them had to be worth seeing.

I figured wrong.

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9 December 2005
Catsitting Organic and Modular Kitties
Cindy’s off to Germany to do one of the few things one can’t easily do in San Francisco: she’s freezing her extremities. And so it is that I’m staying at her place and taking care of a plethora of her pusses.

It’s not that hard. Four of the cats—Feta, Phil, Screetch, and Walter—died some time ago; I only need to dust their compact, pine boxes once before Cindy returns. And the outside kitties generally take care of themselves.

The inside girls—Bob and Odie—are another story. I suspect they spent the seventh or eighth of their nine lives some time ago; they move very slowly when they move at all. They’re both fine felines, but they both have rather bad aim whilst urinating and/or defecating. The girls seem to think that any real estate within eyesight of their assigned cat box is a perfectly fine place to relieve themselves.

I’m not complaining; the kitties are otherwise fine company. And as for cleaning up their stinky little messes, it’s almost no work at all after quaffing the vodka I found buried in Cindy’s freezer.

10 December 2005
Conflicting Plans
I met up with Serena this morning and asked her what she’d like to do. She outlined what sounded like a fun day: a great brunch, some collaboration in her recording studio, a hike along the coast, cooking salmon and asparagus for dinner, then going to a couple of gallery openings.

I told her I liked her ideas, and suggested that we head out. And that’s when she explained that none of her plans involved me.

As I told her, that was fine. It turns out that I needed to do my laundry today, anyway.

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©2005 David Glenn Rinehart