elizabeth lane lawley
michael "OC" clarke
e v h e a d
sweet fancy moses
wood s lot
m. melting object
Saturday, March 13, 2004
in which I hold you, hold myself
Driving over to Don's today, I found myself behind a Suzuki Esteem. I didn't know there was a car called the Esteem, but it fits, doesn't it? Leave it to the Jap marketeers to read the deep semiotics of our most basic fears, our aching sense of loss. Global capitalism feeds on that ache, and fuels it. One of these will spackle the crack in your cosmic egg. Oh yeah. Or perhaps one of these. Can we tempt you?
Why do I post these things? Who knows. Because my heart is ripped to shreds. Because it's all broken glass in here. And it doesn't feel like it's ever gonna be the same. Same as what, I ask myself. No answer.
But I've been blogging again. Some. Mostly pictures, as you may have noticed. Can't find the words to even tell myself. I lost my nerve in there somewhere. My voice, you could say. I've been reading murder mysteries for the last month. Many. In the last week or so I've finished five novels by Michael Connelly, his Harry Bosch series. I started with Lost Light -- which is recent, like 2003 -- then read City of Bones. But after that I went back and started from the beginning with The Black Echo. Yesterday night (early morning, actually) I finished The Last Coyote. Bosch appeals to me. I like him, recognize some of myself in him. His real name is Hieronymous (rhymes with anonymous, he says), though it's rarely mentioned. He's basically Harry throughout. And he's fucked up. Not like he doesn't know it, and know a lot about it, but while it worries him at times, it doesn't slow him down a lot. Except when it does. He's deep into jazz. Enough so that it hurts. He doesn't want to be alone on New Years eve, he says at one point, because then that saxophone can cut you in half. Tonight I was listening to Gerry Mulligan's Night Lights, first music I ever bought as a kid. And yeah.
Harry doesn't get on well with authority. I wonder why. And he smokes. Especially where he's not supposed to. Last night he was getting a ride home from this IAD guy whose partner he'd just roughed up pretty good in an interrogation room, and he starts to light a cigarette. Don't do that, the guy says, this is a non-smoking car, and he points to a magnetic no-smoking sign on the ashtray. Oh, Harry says, then peels the magnet off and tosses it out the window. Now it's a smoking car, he says. The other guy doesn't say anything. Maybe because he knows Bosch is on involuntary psychiatric leave for putting his boss's face through a plate glass window. I mean, what's not to love about this character? But there's more to him than hard boiled attitude. There's a clue.
In this clip, he's just told a woman that her husband was found murdered, shot twice in the head point-blank, then stuffed into the trunk of his car. She listens. She asks a few questions. She says they weren't really that close.
"He picked up his briefcase and headed down the hall with Rider. It ran behind the living room and took them directly to the front door. All the way along the hallway there were no photographs on the wall. It didn't seem right to him, but he guessed nothing had been right in this house for a while. Bosch studied dead people's rooms the way scholars studied dead people's paintings at the Getty. He looked for the hidden meanings, the secrets of lives and deaths.
At the door Rider went out first. Bosch then steeped out and looked back down the hall. Veronica Aliso was framed at the other end in the light. He hesitated for a beat. He nodded and walked out."
Connelly has been compared to Raymond Chandler, yet not (that I've seen) to Ross Macdonald. Macdonald was arguably better than Chandler. I thought so. But few seem to know or remember him. We were staying at a ski lodge in Vail for a talk I was giving there, and we found a copy of The Blue Hammer in the room. I'd turned her on to Macdonald and she liked him too. Neither of us had read this one, so we were delighted. Happy. Glad. Seems impossible now, but it was like that. Sometimes. I remember being surprised at the time, because I'd never heard of The Blue Hammer, and I thought I'd read them all. We read it to each other in bed. But we never finished it, and I've never tried to read it since. The trip ended badly. We ended badly. Two years ago now. All things are full of gods Heraclitus said, a couple thousand years back. I don't know about gods. Memories though. Everywhere I look. I take drugs to turn them off these days, though it doesn't really work. Because when it does, the deeper dark begins. Memories. Neurochemical flicker. Lost light.
I feel like a voyeur in other people's lives. I am living vicariously through Harry Bosch. I am getting better, I tell myself. Better than what, though. No answer.
And why am I telling you all this? I guess because I don't have to. You already know. Some. A handful. A dozen, a hundred? I don't know. But I know you're there. You've kept me alive. And yeah, this one's a little different from that stuff I was blogging yesterday, the night before, skating way out there on the thin ice, baby, laughing.
The Suzuki Esteem. That's all I was going to write about when I started this. I went to Google looking for pictures to rip, and found this site where guys (mostly guys) show off their ridez, as many call them. On this one page, a guy in the Netherlands shows off his customized Suzuki Esteem. Boyz will hack anything. Anything at all. "This is my girl..." he writes. And I wonder, you know. Is she still? Something in me hopes so. Some deep ache that makes me an excellent prospect, I suppose, for a hot new car. For something, anything to hide this shattered life behind. Some way to raise my self-esteem.
DAMN, I can't figure out which one looks better, the girl or the car. Looks good keep up the good work. Come check out my Grand Am and let me know what you think. Lata.
Aye nice car but you might get more hits if you take the ugly girl out of the pictures.
Sorry about your luck but I wouldn't need a dreambitch. I'm a female. I'm just saying from a females point of view the car is alot nicer than the female and she's just ruining a wonderful pic of a beautiful car. I'm not putting down your ride, cuz you definatly got my vote, but honestly......this website isn't about females.
3:07 AM | link |
Friday, March 12, 2004
Friends & Family
special to EGR by Ben Dover
Oh dear, it's so sad to see the fate that has befallen one of my
former consulting clients. I told them they were scum, I
told them they were carrion vultures and venal miscreants. But
did they listen? Of course not. And now God has punished them. Good.
Saves me another long climb up the bell tower. Must be old age. That
assault rifle is getting heavy.
The Wall Street Journal
March 12, 2004
MCI to State Fraud Was $11 Billion
MCI, formerly known as WorldCom, is expected to reveal that its
total accounting fraud reached about $11 billion and that its final
financial restatement will affect billions more because the company
has reversed many of its past accounting practices, according to
people familiar with the situation. MCI is expected to make the
disclosure as early as Friday in an SEC filing, in which it is
expected to provide audited results for 2000, 2001 and 2002 that
will reveal the full extent of the largest accounting fraud in U.S.
history, according to these people.
2:40 PM | link |
A contribution to the ongoing discussion from the inimitable Brian Millar, who himself, and whose blog, is a trip. He is perhaps best known (aside from numerous advertising awards for the likes of Mercedes and IBM) as the author of Hamlet for PowerPoint (cf. The Skinhead Hamlet).
1:44 PM | link |
Virginia Postrel can kiss my ass
I've been meaning to rip Ginny a new one for quite some time now. Don't get me wrong. She's smart. She's well read. She can write. It's just that she's so full of shit. But as Jimi said, "maybe tomorrow..." For now, these passing reflections will have to suffice.
"There may, of course, come a time when it will be necessary to give reason a temporary advantage and when it will be wise to defend its rules to the exclusion of everything else. I do not think we are living in such a time today."
12:52 PM | link |
and they look so korean!
2:37 AM | link |
Hmmm... I see... very interezting...
more astute social commentary from EGR
12:49 AM | link |
Thursday, March 11, 2004
janie's got a gun
her whole world's come undone
from lookin straight at the sun
what did her daddy do?
what did he put you through?
they said when janie was arrested
they found him underneath a train
but man he had it comin
now that janie's got a gun
she ain't never gonna be the same...
from the widely acclaimed PBS Special on women and homicide
Where You Goin With That Gun In Your Hand?
(or are you just glad to see me?)
soundtrack by aerosmith & jimi hendrix
10:27 PM | link |
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Join Us At PhoneCon!
click for details
RageBoy will deliver the Track 13 keynote address
"But Is Talking On The Telephone Really Journalism?"
Our Chairman and Fearless Leader
Alexander Graham Winer
12:38 AM | link |
12:01 AM | link |
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Unsafe at Any Speed
10:40 AM | link |
"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
28 October 2004
||More of Chris Locke's photos
Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of.
I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos."
It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.
what I'm listening to...
egr on topica
on yahoo groups
terms of service
It is too late.