Working vacation

Charlottesville

Out Write Fair, Washington DC

Perry Brass took us---or at least our book ("you are what you read, or you are what you write")---to the Out Write Fair in Washington DC earlier this month.

He writes: "Just wanted to share these shots of Green Eyes at the OutWrite Fair in DC. You can put them up on Lustspiel if you’d like. I really enjoyed this fair—you would have loved it: droves of good-looking black men! I gave one copy of Green Eyes to my friend Philip Clark who is a young writer working on a history of pornography in the gay men’s community. He will be at the next Rainbow Book Fair on a panel called “Pornography as History.”

Ohne Worte

Kapitalismus Kritik (1) --- 1843

Karl Marx disliked it, "sheer critique of capitalism," although he hated "moralizing" even more. But there you have it. 1843---yet another attempt of THE ECONOMIST to launch yet another magazine and dump it onto unsuspecting Economist subscribers until it flounders---has this add in its latest issue:

You shouldn't worry that most ads in this unsalable magazine are about jet charter (or Hublot watches), but: 

(1) The suit of this this guy who has supposedly chartered this aeroplane and is now striding towards it as if it were an expensive prostitute---isn't he sagging a bit too much for his cut-to-fashion outfit? This is really bespoke (tailor-made), his 'suit'?
(2) And now what; he's walking all the way? Where's the chauffeured limousine that would take him to the gangway? 
(3) And if there's no limousine because he had a bad day in the market, why is he approaching his airborne convenience as if he's trying to commit suicide by cutting his head off the sharp side of the plane's left wing? 

You say.

We picked up two friends from Korea, at the airport of Geneva...

...and the weather was like this.

We simply had to --- Cloud fart --- This Is Heaven

We had this firm resolution: no more TIH teasers until the release date of August 27. And then we saw this gif:

So, there we are in Chapter 37. Note the name of Juliette's new boyfriend---Romeo. Romeo's sugar daddy Roper has just been found dead with a kinky dog collar around his neck, and there is more trouble on the horizon.

“Act Two,” Alex says, and fumbles in the pockets of his shorts. Alex always seems to carry a medication bottle lately, and now he unscrews it and hands a pill to Juliette.
“This will do,” he says.
“What is this?”
“A pill.”
“Oh my God, the pill,” Juliette says.
“The pace quickens in the second part of the play, doesn’t it?” Alex says.
“The pill is Act Four.”
“Act Four, then.”
“Alex, please,” Juliette says. “My Romeo, when am I going to get him back?”
“Soon.”
“Hold on, Alex. First you say Roper is not a big deal. Next thing you say they will put up wanted bills and he has to go into hiding.”
“Juliette, I’m just thinking on my feet.”
“For how long does he have to go into hiding?”
“Until Strada and friends get distracted by something else. They’re up to their ears in unresolved cases like this-—perverts passing away in seedy circumstances. Nobody wants these cases resolved, it’s much too embarrassing. Give it a week. Four days.”
“John said you know the assistant DA for vice?”

Alex grins introspectively and a bit longer than he should. He has been standing next to me and now he adds his habitual arm to my shoulder. “Yes, we do, John, don’t we?”

One is never too old to learn

The last picture of Gore Vidal

Yesterday evening

Trump Trump --- Tesla has arrived

Not all is lost, folks...

...up here on the alm in Bürchen, Switzerland, 1,600 meters above the White House and 6,000 kilometers to the east of it...this is already the second TESLA we encounter. And it doesn't run on gut feelings, or coal, or oil, or Twitter. No, it's powered by electric energy, tapped from solar panels on the roof of rich local chalet owners that can afford the Tesla S-class.

This Is Heaven --- Book cover reveal

Yesterday evening

"Your name is Obamacare, isn't it?"

About to finish This Is Heaven...my new book

(Update: the continuity girl in me just discovered a few more issues)

The solar system, from afar

A small step for a man, a big step for mankind

It's immoral (2) --- Trump care 66.75 times as evil as the Twin Tower attack

One brief remark regarding the pending health care legislation in the US: 

According to estimates built on the evaluation of the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office, (15 million lose their health coverage during the first year of Trump Care, etc), the Republican-sponsored legislation will cause 

200 000 preventable deaths per year.

Let's quantify this. NineEleven caused 2 996 deaths.  So, Trump care is 66.75 times as evil as the Twin Tower attack. Per year.

"It's immoral"

Our new short story is out, IT'S IMMORAL---relating a ride from our home near Cannes to Nice airport---in issue 16 of the British lit magazine Bunbury.

It's a bit complicated to get hold of the issue (here's the link:) Bunbury XVI 

For your convenience, we have the story here. It's not so long. Save for the penultimate paragraph, it's true-true, the story, so don't miss the penultimate paragraph. 



Let me put this upfront: the main exit of motorway A8 into Nice has been under construction for quite a while. Anybody living on the Cote d’Azur must have wondered why a ramp pointing in the direction of the downtown voie rapide, obviously meant to relieve the overworked Promenade des Anglais along the beach, had been left for decades to peter out as a useless heap of sand. Two years ago, finally, a swarm of yellow caterpillars appeared and replaced the sand with an overpass of French proportions, meandering high into the sky as if the gloire of the nation depended on it. I had followed the activity with some interest and last time I checked, on Wednesday (returning home from an exhausting interview with Inspecteur Dugeny of the criminal branch of French customs about Jyske, my wayward bank), the work was still unfinished.

Nice airport

I’m writing this while waiting for the Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. I’m sitting on a two-person leather couch opposite Chang, who sits on another, identical couch. The couch table separating us holds a glass of orange juice (Chang), and three glasses of Bloody Mary (Michael) (empty). On closer inspection, the couch table consists of two plastic stools of not quite matching colors. The entire room, a small VIP lounge off the boarding area of Terminal One is stuffed with like furniture and overhung by a low, impending ceiling. The room is busy with passengers, various flights are delayed; people behave, nerves radiate. A TV screen on the wall shows a feature about Alain Juppé, mayor of Bordeaux, a once-presidential-hopeful who refuses to go away despite the time he spent in prison for the embezzlement of public funds. I’m the only one watching, everybody else plays with his i-thing.

_____________________

I’m not sure Chang is aware of what has happened because he is all business.

_____________________

I’m not sure Chang is aware of what has happened because he is all business i.e., very critical of the booze. I can still feel my heartbeat.