From a cozy corner of the Oval Office:
The Veep fell alseep as the Pres played host to you know Hu.
Cheney said he was looking at his notes. Right. I tried using that excuse one time in class. No one bought it then, and no one's buyin it now, Dick. Wakey wakey, you've got a Chinese ass to kiss and a trade deficit to widen. But don't mention Iran--you might upset our guest.
What's with people falling alseep on the job? Remember Ginsburg caught forty on the bench:
Funny, Souter and Alito didn't even try to wake her up. That'll learn 'er, eh.
I wonder if Britney was napping when her kid fell off the bed.... twice.
Oh well, politicians will be politicians. And with the public's insatiable hunger for shaming, we'll continue to fault them for sleeping, flippin' the bird, or puking on the prime minister of Japan. Enjoy the clip.
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Bad ticker on that guy. If Nixon was 'Tricky Dick,' what does that make Cheney?
In thirteen years you must feed me the party line. I don't want to be on the wrong side when the Revolution comes. No wonder you liked "V."
Inter alia, vous (naw), tu m'amuse. J'ai dit ça, déja. Et tu me rends folle avec vos phrases obscures, "inter alia." Bien joué! Maintenant, je suis réduit à l'écriture dans mon français pauvre.
Oh, for a muse of fire that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention...
Ou simplement, le confort éloigné d'un ami du même avis.
I saw my old friend, Ken D., on Thurday. He was on his book tour. We had dinner after, with a few other people (among them, his friend from Boulder, of all places). It was lovely, of course, but I was stricken with my lack of similar acquaintance in LA. It's really tough here. I have a few friends who are really smart and read, and care about ideas. But for the most part... It's a scarcity, and I'm hungry for it. Anyway, comparisons to people we've never met are of course absurd, but you consistently remind me of that core I had back East, Ken being a principle part.
Aha! Dutronc! Not overly familiar, but was thinking of him last night when I put up F. Hardy (and I love her). I rarely can so much as stomach French pop, and here's why, they cannot rock, and they sure as shit will never roll. Same as their great difficulty with comedy - Paris is a culture bound up in the rules of status and propriety, (which is curiously contradictory given the themes in their novels and cinema). Comedy accepts no propriety, and Rock and Roll wants to tear everything down. If you're too cool for school, you stifle yourself. I was in the Castel not too long ago. I saw how they all were, even through all that smoke. You've probably walked in there wearing North Face, like you owned the place.
Shall I go on? I blame existentialism (you mentioned Sartre recently, and yes, I had to read Huis Clos when I was fifteen), and shame over WWII, and all the subsequent cynicism, which is death to creativity.
The French do music best when they use their folk roots, and of course they have amazing classical composers. I'm a fan of some of the electronica, esp. Air and some Mirwais. Sometimes I think rock just doesn't work in any language other than English. A question of phonics?
Your song pick makes me laugh. It's cousin to the Beach Boys wishing they all could be California girls.
In my neck of the woods, they should buy my show ideas, like "Extreme Makeunder," wherein "pretty" people are given spare tires and weak chins because it just builds character.
" '[D]espite his choice of profession, I believe he lived to break rules. It was his revelry.' thank you for saying that." Please tell me why.
No mentions at dinner (and are you so eloquent live as on paper?), it was Ken's night, and David's too. I tried to avoid talking about myself almost entirely, except when queried. Of course, I had things to volunteer about the brothers. And I wonder what you meant by this: loving someone after death takes a fair amount of humility. Really, that's the premise of an entire essay, or book even. But how do you feel it?
you are into bluegrass as well? who could be uncheered with a banjo?
french hip-hop? oh, the gaul.
I cannot discover "toto coelo," so I have to rely on my thin knowledge of Latin and guess it's "all of heaven"? And that means what, exactly? I asked my friend, Joe, and he responded by singing me that cannibal song, which I have never heard of in my life.
what makes me crazy is ambiguous inscrutable "phrases obscures." so "inter alia" (sounds like a lost continent) and "whatnot" make me scratch my head in wonder, when things go unsaid. or maybe it's just filler. i don't care for that much either, but it doesn't perplex me so. anyway, i'm not always perfectly patient, but i'm working on it.
"low light" me rends folle aussi, mais pour les autres raisons obscures. when I was home recently, I found all this poetry (gawd) I wrote a while back. your down tempo musings called up this piece:
"I have let my hair down
for sighs in low light,
tender in hand
tender in thighs..."
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