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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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Weak XXVIII

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9 July 2015

gratuitous image

No. 2,509 (cartoon)

You only live once.

Not if you’re schizophrenic!

10 July 2015

gratuitous image

I Think, Therefore I Am Not Sure

I’m thinking the words that can’t be written, so I’ll share a forgettable photograph instead.

As an irrelevant aside, it’s the first image I’ve made with a Leica this millennium. I think. I think, therefore I am not sure.

11 July 2015

Lick Old Ladies Home

I’m glad that I still have my second favorite retiral option, Retirement Plan, since my preferred destination, Lick Old Ladies Home, changed its name to University Mound Ladies Home in 1896.

I was dismayed to learn that the University Mound Ladies Home will be closing its doors soon. Where will all the women—and men(!)—living there go? Although I’ve always had more than enough money for my personal pursuits, I wish I had a large enough fortune to endow the David’s Lick Old Ladies Home. It’s too bad that I was born well over a century too late to be a California robber baron.

Alas.

Despite that impossibility, I shall continue, as an old man, to do all I can for all the lovely old ladies in my life. Someone with more ambition and assets needs to endow a Lick Old Ladies Home, but that ain’t me.

Alas redux.

12 July 2015

Davey

Henri and I were listening to a recent recording by The Imploding Kumquats.

“I’d give my firstborn to make music like that,” I enthused.

“That’s a really stupid for a barren guy to say,” Henri replied.

“I’m thinking of little Davey,” I explained. “I suppose he’s not technically my firstborn since he’s just a fat little fetus in formaldehyde, but I would in fact trade him for miraculous musical virtuosity.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Henri asked.

I just smiled; that’s a question I never answer.

13 July 2015

Eric’s Love Life

Eric is trying to find someone to marry, and it’s not going very well. As he explained it, self-unemployed artists, musicians, and writers like him aren’t seen as promising partnership material. When I asked him if he had any propitious prospects, he said his “love life” consisted of self-inflicted orgasms, which was more than I ever wanted to know. As to whether or not that really constitutes love, only Eric can answer that question. And I’m certainly never going to ask.

14 July 2015

Six Winks Short of an Icicle

Gomez opined that my most recent work was, “as cockamamie as a backward noodle.” When I asked him to explain what he meant, he said that I was, “just jazzmatazzing like hot cheese on a cherry.”

He protested when I asked him to talk in English, not gibberish. He claimed he was inventing new slang that would eventually find its way into respected reference books.

Poor Gomez, once again he’s six winks short of an icicle.

15 July 2015

Oskar Groening

The Nazi death camps were a profitable business venture. Oskar Groening, colloquially known as the Accountant of Auschwitz, was a cog in that barbaric machine. The ninety-four-year-old man was recently sentenced to four years in prison for his role in the murder of some three hundred thousand Hungarian Jews; that’s about seven minutes behind bars for each person killed. (I wonder if he’ll do the same calculations I did?)

Groening apologized, but such expressions of regret always sound a bit disingenuous after the first hundred thousand victims or so. Oh well, at least his longevity prevented him from getting away with his crimes.

16 July 2015

One Millimeter from Indeterminate Grams

It takes a lot for a friend to annoy me, but Carlos managed to do that tonight by going on and on about some imagined slight, then going on and on some more.

“I have about one gram of patience left for your whinging,” I advised.

“How much is that in millimeters?” he asked with a confused look.

Carlos is clue-free when it comes to the metric system, but at least he was perceptive enough to change the subject with only a single warning.

Stare.

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©2015 David Glenn Rinehart

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