Good Morning!

"Now I get it!"

Green Eyes --- Chapter 18: Agatha Cristie (teaser)

First watch this:



and now read this (the opening lines of Chapter 18):

Alex had already left his perch as a grand horizontal when I woke up. Better even, or worse, the sheer fact that I could fall asleep testifies to his untimely departure, since nobody, not even straight people, would be able to fall asleep with the Green Eyes on top of you. And I slept, because I had my usual morning glory, and I was alone, as outlined already, no external stimuli present, only my sleep, and sweet dreams perhaps that I don't remember. I'm too old for spontaneous erections, it's either sexual or it's sleep (not quite true, I remember now, I had one just yesterday, but still). Sometimes I have trouble falling asleep, and sometimes I don't know whether I did actually fall asleep before awaking in the middle of the night, but then I feel my boner, and know I slept, realizing that my sleeping is better than feared, and thus comforted fall asleep again (only to wake up at a later time with another boner (I think I should stop now)).

For selected chapters of the Green Eyes, go here.

(lyrics:)

I threw a wish in the well,
Don't ask me, I'll never tell
I looked to you as it fell,
And now you're in my way

I'd trade my soul for a wish,
Pennies and dimes for a kiss
I wasn't looking for this,
But now you're in my way

If the shoe fits

No shit (Will.I.Am ft. Eva Simons)

(and the lyrics:)

if you love it like i love it
and you feel what i feel inside
if you want it like i want it
then baby let's get it tonight

if you feel it say hell yeah
(hell yeah)
say hell yeah
(hell yeah)
and say hell yeah
(hell yeah)
this is love, this is love, this is love

Second draft

"We must have mislaid the copy of Michael Ampersant's Green Eyes."

(Artwork by Alessandro Bavari)

Freedom Fries --- Chapter 1: Lynx news (part 2)

Previously: George W. Bush, retired, is watching a show about his presidency on LYNX news, and is about to develop second thoughts about his achievements. Betty Bartholomeo is the show's anchor,Samuel Fisher is LYNX's founder and CEO.

Meanwhile, back at Prairie Chapel Ranch, Bush swings his gun — not his gun, Hussein’s gun — and Bartholomeo continues: “The President’s ratings soared again, deservedly, to precedented heights, although the liberal media were never able to forgive the president his success, and carped about the alleged absence of weapons of mass destruction, the casualties of Iraqi civilians in the ensuing civil war, the cost of the war, the casualties on the American side, the manipulation of war-supporting intelligence, and the Abu Ghraib prison event, when a few inappropriate pictures of prisoners were leaked to the media in detriment to the security of our troops…”

Betty gives way to a photograph of a figure tiptoeing on top of a tiny box, covered by a soiled bluish sheet ragged at the hem, the arms half-stretched sideways, the open palms turned to the camera, gnarled wires connected to both hands and liaised back to some cabling on the wall, the head covered with a pointed black hood. There is an eerie composition to the photograph; it balances the suggestion of an electrocution with the floppiness of a practical joke.

The retired first couple knows this picture, of course; the entire world knows it, it has served as an icon of resistance against the War in Iraq. Even the mainstream Economist, a supporter of the war, has put it on its cover with the cry: “Resign, Rumsfeld.”

"We read Michael Ampersant's Green Eyes because J.K. Rowlings last novel was a bummer"

(Artwork by Michael Kirwan)

What's the angle?

The Anna Karenina movie is out, folks, with Keira Knightley as Anna,
Joe Wrigth as director, and Tom Stoppard as script author.

"It's an advantage of shredded relationships that you no longer have to care about conventions. Happy families are all alike and will answer the buzzer either immediately, or not at all (if they are too happy right this moment). Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, and answers the buzzer as they see fit. I've gotten up now, I've put another kiss on John's forehead to maintain the bond, closed the bedroom door, standing in the kitchen den, and the doorbell has died. Father always rings three times." (Green Eyes, Chapter 27: I charge 100 dollars but am willing to negotiate)

And while we are at it:

"I’m trying," he replies, interrupting himself: "You know," he says, "there's something about casual artistic activity, if that's the word, I'm not talking Shakespeare here but, you know, a Westend play, or off-Broadway, you know, or Spielberg, a lot of it is just context, changing context. A dialogue that worked 50 years ago does not work any longer because people have changed, they talk differently, they're smarter."

"You know that the dialogue in the first Indiana Jones movie was written by Tom Stoppard, even though he is not credited?" I say.

"Yes, he says, "I know."

Souls meet for a split second, but Charles isn't done with his story yet. (Green Eyes, Chapter 7: Tom of Finland)

Gotcha

We're returning from Lyon, where Chang and I went to do a little Korean shopping, and from a wonderful night spent subsequently at the house of friends located in the middle of the vineyards of the Beaujolais, and are making a pit stop at a motorway restaurant, with me entering the building first, and disappearing in the rest room for the disabled on the ground floor, and Chang entering after me, descending to the basement where the main rest rooms are located, and reemerging from the basement, somewhat disoriented (because I had gone missing), while I am emerging from the disabled rest room, he looking at me, puzzled, me pointing at the door of my restroom and saying, suggestively: "It was a black guy, with a very big dick." And he believes it!

Beaujolais, Chang, vineyard in the morning

The nadir of American Conservativism

This text, written by Eric Dondero, appeared on the website LibertarianRepublican.net. We don't think it'll stay up for long, even though --- or because --- it cuts right to the chase of present-day American Conservativism. Wasn't it George W. Bush who said that "you are either for us or against us"?  Well, let's say to you: "You are either in bed with these people or not in bed with these people."

(you need to click on it for enlargement)

We think it'll gonna be a classic. People will remember it twenty years from now. Historians will cite it. This text, folks, this text marks the the moment when "conservatives," (not that this is an adequate term, better would be: "reactionaries") when they have really lost it, when they have really reached the point of no return, when they jumped off the cliff, when they hang in the air, when they crashed and shattered into thousand pieces. Many people will try to forget about this. Pretty soon. Don't let them! Remember this. Remember them (you need to click on it for readability, but just in case, here's a condensed version as plain text:)

The end of liberty in America: Only course of action now is to fight back, electoral politics not working
Time to tell any Democrats you know to fuck off and die
by Eric Dondero

[...]
Secondly, today starts a new course for my life. I've soured on electoral politics given what happened last night. I believe now the best course of action is outright revolt. What do I mean by that?
Well, to each his own. Some may choose to push secession in their state legislatures. Others may choose to leave the U.S. for good (Costa Rica, Switzerland, Italy, Argentina, Hong Kong, Israel). Still others may want to personally separate themselves from the United States here in North America while still living under communist rule' the Glenn Beck, grab your guns, food storage, build bunkers, survivalist route. I heartily endorse all these efforts.

Let's do something sexy on Saturday evening...

...like posting another picture of these Swiss boys:

Bob Bienpensant: The twain shall meet again (n° 2)

The real real America --- reblogged

Paul Krugman writes on his blog:

So, for a while there during the campaign it seemed very iffy. But in the end, discipline and being on the right side of the issues prevailed. Yes, Elizabeth Warren won! Oh, and that guy Obama too. Tomorrow — or I guess today — comes the cleanup; when thousands, perhaps millions, of right-wing heads explode, it makes quite a mess. Also, notice that the polls were right. I wonder if I can get invited when Nate Silver is sworn in as president? OK, somewhat more seriously: one big thing that just happened was that the real America trumped the “real America”. And it’s also the election that lets us ask, finally, “Who cares what’s the matter with Kansas?” For a long time, right-wingers — and some pundits — have peddled the notion that the “real America”, all that really counted, was the land of non-urban white people, to which both parties must abase themselves. Meanwhile, the actual electorate was getting racially and ethnically diverse, and increasingly tolerant too. The 2008 Obama coalition wasn’t a fluke; it was the country we are becoming. And sure enough that more diverse and, if you ask me, better nation just won big. Notice too that to the extent that social issues played in this election, they played in favor of Democrats. Gods, guns, and gays didn’t swing voters into supporting corporate interests; instead, human dignity for women swung votes the other way. A huge night for truth, justice, and the real American way.

And while we are at it, here are a few lines from Chapter 38 of our Green Eyes, helpfully titled "What's Paul Krugman's penis size":

I see two tables cleared next to the central window on the street side, these would be very good tables indeed, when I realize two people to my left, having replaced the fat guy in the meantime, I've seen the face of the man somewhere, on my blog, actually. We're famous in Georgia Beach, serious, folks. Will I tell Trevor? You think Trevor would be interested  in politics, or the New York Times, or economics, or Nobel prices? Possibly not --- you have other problems when you're a confirmed bachelor without a future. Trevor, in any case, who must be looking right into the eyes of Paul Krugman behind me, Trevor shows no signs of recognition what-so-ever, it's crystal-clear, he's not attracted to the fifty-nine year old Nobel laureate.

Straight victory lap

Bring out the vote

"Low-information voters may blame the President for the weather"

(Hendrik Hertzberg in The New Yorker, Nov. 6, 2012)

Fucking noodle soup --- reblogged

Mr. E. (yes, the mysterious Mr. E.) writes (from Thailand) on his blog 50 Shady Gays:

The problem with moving to Thailand is that now we have to endure hearing what Thai people think. The majority of which is not worth listening to; it’s generally something about “Som tam,” “sleeping,”or “playing facebook.”

Take my secretary for instance (please, just take him!). He doesn’t stop talking. He talks so much it has become the background cacophony of my daily life. A piercingly staccato, camp monologue about his family, boyfriends (Giks), food, and Lady-FUCKING-Gaga! He doesn’t even pause for breath, it’s incredible:

“He – say – he – my – boyfriend – why – I – not – go – to – Silom – wit – heem – I – say – cannot – he say – I – have – many – many – Giks – not – good -not – good – I say – he – not – love – me – he – look – at – other – boys – he – butterfly – he – say – he – not – butterfly – I – butterfly…”

 “He – say – he – my – boyfriend – why – I – not – go – to – Silom – wit – heem" 

At first, out of politeness, I would occasionally feign concern or even comprehension: “I think you should talk to him about it, let him know how you feel.”

Writing? ---- Don't do it (Sacha)

Thank you Sacha for sending this. We were procrastinating a bit about the pen-pen-ultimate chapter of the Green Eyes, and listened to Bukowski's advice, and then decided to "let if flow," and got 2/3 of the thing written Sunday afternoon (while we were originally planning to go see the latest James Bond).

PS: We had a chance to think a bit about this and came to the conclusion that Bukowski is a bragging old brat.
PSS: We mean, we knew Hans-Werner Henze, right, who wrote more operas than Bukowski, and Hans told us about his problems of finishing The Bassarids (the libretto of which was not written by Ingeborg Bachmann, as most obituaries have it, but by W. H. Auden (whom we met on the occasion, and who was trying to seduce us)), and how he procrastinated and had to smoke a lot of pot to get it done.
PSSS: And we haven't smoked any pot at all, better even, we gave up the booze (and the one-night-stands and settled down in a quiet little town and all that).
PSSSS: We smoke coffee now.
PSSSSS: Stay tuned until we find the gave-up-the-booze clip.

Variations on a theme

"Let's stay in touch!"

(click to enlarge)