Stare.
free (and worth it) subscription
nothing
   1996
   1997
   1998
   1999
   2000
   2001
   2002
   2003
   2004
   2005
   2006
   2007
   2008
   2009
   2010
   2011
   2012
   2013
   2014
   2015
   2016
   2017
   2018
   2019
   2020
   2021
   2022
   2023
nothing
   Art
   Cartoons
   Film
   Music
   Photography
   Miscellaneous
nothing
About
Contact
nothing
Legal

   
 
An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak LI

nothing

17 December 2019

gratuitous image

No. 3,453 (cartoon)

The thing is the thing.

The thing is nothing.

No thing is the thing?

18 December 2019

Not More Than One Peacock

Rosalind told me that a group of peacocks is an ostentation of peacocks, and anyone who refers to them as a muster or a pride is just plain wrong.

So there!

I’m no stranger to coincidences, so I wasn’t surprised that was the second mention of peacocks this week. On Monday, Oliver asserted in equally strident terms that peacocks gathered in a muster, and that anyone who claimed that they were an ostentation was talking peacock poppycock. (Nice phrase, Oliver!)

Some people say ostentation, some people say muster, and I tend to agree. From now on I will never mention more than one peacock at a time; I’m not going to take sides in a vicious fight between pedants.

19 December 2019

Choking on Hairballs

I find the movie Cats quite amusing. Well, not the movie proper; it’s not a proper movie. It’s a Hollywood cash grab, and the irresponsible people responsible for the litter box of a film released it before it was quite finished.

That’s the holiday spirit!

The entertaining aspect of the silly farce is that the critics can be vicious with no need to feign a nuanced review. Here’s my favorite ...

“It’s literally incredible,” wrote Alissa Wilkinson. “I hope I never see it again.”

I suspect the pundits actually like vomitous cinematic hairball extravaganza; their vitriol practically writes itself.

And in fairness, I suppose Cats could have worse: think Dogs. Better yet, don’t.

20 December 2019

gratuitous image

Bicycle Day Toilets

I rarely make an image that I consider to be a good photograph, but I made two earlier this year on Bicycle Day, 19 April. I published one and discovered the other one when I was tidying my studio getting ready to start the new year with an empty digital filing cabinet.

I rather like the geometry of an orderly row of eight portable plastic outhouses in the park with one tipped forward. I’m fairly certain no one was trapped inside, at least not a conscious person. There’s no story to go with the tipsy toilet, so I’m just going to call it visual filler and go on a bike ride, as is appropriate for a Bicycle Day flashback.

21 December 2019

gratuitous image

Glenn Albert Rinehart 1920-1991

It’s the winter solstice, and I’m thinking of my late father. He wasn’t a Druid and neither am I, but the shortest day of the year is a good time to die, which he did twenty-eight years ago today.

I’m not going to decide when to die, but maybe I’ll get lucky and die on the winter solstice too. I might even have the good fortune to pop my clogs on the winter solstice in June in Tierra del Fuego. I prefer not to know and be surprised later.

22 December 2019

Whip Smart

Dr. Schreiber was amusing Poppypuss by whipping around a feathered thingie on a string. The cat tried to kill it, but couldn’t: the stitched-together creature was a curious combination of dead and immortal. I complimented her on her prowess in keeping the cat from catching it.

“There’s something about a Bavarian with a whip,” I said admiringly.

“Thank you,” she replied, “I have several.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Horses, mostly,” she explained.

Mostly? I didn’t ask. There’s beauty in mystery and ambiguity.

23 December 2019

Is Wine Better Than Beer?

Adriana asked me what I wanted to drink after I biked over to her studio this afternoon.

“A beer, please,” I replied. “I got rather warm cycling up your steep hill.”

“I’ll get you some chilled wine instead,” she said. “It’s better.”

“I believe that’s a matter of opinion,” I protested.

“No, it’s science and I can prove it,” she declared. “Anything is better than nothing; nothing is better than beer; thus anything is better than beer.”

I told her I was impressed by her specious logic, so she brought me a large bottle of beer. I downed it then I hoisted her by her own petard by asking for a cold mug of wine; that have been preferable.

It’s easy to get along with people with a modicum of effort; I wonder why people have such petty, ridiculous arguments?

Stare.

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak
©2019 David Glenn Rinehart

nothing nothing nothing nothing