Skawennati, are you into different fashion designers and stuff?

........It's gonna getcha. It's gonna getcha!........

Did you see those plastic strapon wigs that he did?

Ok y'all where are the jetpacks? I mean, you can stitchandbitch all you want but somebody's gotta stand up and demand their jetpack. It's almost two thousand and two. Somewhere along the line we never made the jetpacks for everyone. I mean I was there. People I know where there. We had the technology. What'd we get? DVD players and DSL lines. That's the best you can get. It don't matter where you shop. You can't even get a mobile phone that works in the desert. Fer crissakes, if you asked someone relatively technological back in the 50's what your average American would be more likely to strap on when they head out the door: a wireless telephone smaller than a pack of cigs or a jetpack; do you think they wouldn't go with the jetpack? Have you gazed upon a 1950's Cadillac? Jetpacks. Of course. Everybody wanted them. They were the future. Personal flying transportation dominated the skies of the futurtopias. Those people got jobs in R&D. I know it. We got pretty much every thing else we wanted. Didn't we? Where are all the Jetpacks? You can't even find ONE! I don't even remember a big failed product launch.

EUREKA #2 by M. Moore, B. Sutton, & Howell
Retro-sci-fi at its finest! After a daring jetpack-assisted escape from the crazed neo-Luddites led by the crazed General Diego, Nelly and Dr. Tyson become separated in the wilds of the Belgian Congo. Meanwhile, Professor Applewhite prepares to move his mysterious archeological find. Is it indeed a flying saucer? ....

I'll be covering this in more hyperlinky detail later.

I was trying to shoot the happy hour of the beautiful people. The idea was to go down there (111 Minna) during the daylight and shoot the hipsters hanging out on the sidewalk. As far as I know, it's the only daylight disco scene around. I got too busy and it got too dark and I was racing around malnurished but I did get off a few rolls. Here's another Holga double exposure mistake. Adrian Chan and Jason Lewis.

I haven't been posting photos or writing these last 2 weeks. It's not sheer laziness. I've been hanging out with Marcie White and doing activities that kept me far away from my computer. I post something every time I get a chance. I'm gonna try to get back on it now. I'm also getting concerned that I can't find stuff that is buried deep in the archives and since Google doesn't seem to be indexing those files I suppose I'll have to figure out some kind of search engine. Today I was searching for the links I'd made to the Vice Magazine Do's and Dont's and it took me 10 minutes.

Marcie does that thing where you put twice as many pillows as you need on your bed one to put your head on when you sleep and one to throw on the floor when you’re ready to go to bed. Like the Brady parents had, not that she’d know what that is ‘cause she’s not a TV kid. The reason I was thinking about that was that my head was on the pillow that you would sleep on and I was thinking about all the cat hair and stuff on her hardwood floors that gets on the other pillows when you throw them on the floor and that I’m allergic to cat stuff and that I maybe should be concerned about that but I wasn’t feeling sniffely so maybe not.

Now I’m using both pillows to prop my head up and type. I found a laptop by her bed and I un-suspended it and started typing in Word 97. The words that were coming to my head resting on her clean pillow were too tasty to let go of. I know after all these years that where you think of something nifty as you’re drifting off to sleep it’s gone fer sure when you fall asleep. Fight that urge to fall asleep and get them down. Type them in.

There’s some Boards of Canada playing and the remains of our dinner party are riding out the last of their ecstasy buzz and chatting in the living room. Nathan, who’s room the living room is, is curled up in front of the fire in the backyard like the cute little cowpoke he is. I’m resting on Marcie’s bed. I don’t think they know that I have a computer on my lap. Man, her screen must be eight hundred by six hundred. Everything looks big and clunky to me. I’m used to sixteen hundred by twelve hundred.

Well, that’s about it. Starting up her laptop and typing ended my sleepy reverie and now I’m just punching keys so I’ll say a “save, exit, close.”

Don’t get me wrong. I think Marcie and her bed are the greatest. It’s an “aw, shucks, aint that sweet” kind of thing.

Later.

davep