Anodyne
Saturday, July 14, 2007
 

Evening, Agamemnon Channel, B.C.
Friday, July 13, 2007
 

Horseshoe Bay --> Langdale; Earls Cove --> Saltery Bay; Powell River --> Little River; Duke Point --> Tsawwassen.

"She gave up, and was lifted again to a sitting position, where she remained, her head thrown far backward. The sudden roar of the plane's motor behind her smashed the wall of the chamber where she lay. Before her eyes was the violent blue sky -- nothing else. For an endless moment she looked into it. Like a great overpowering sound it destroyed everything in her mind, paralyzed her. Someone once had said to her that the sky hides the night behind it, shelters the person beneath from the horror that lies above. Unblinking, she fixed the solid emptiness, and the anguish began to move in her."

Sitting out in the sunshine on the aft deck like Kit's idealist husband Port, with my backpack, camera, and Eddie Bauer cap. Low blue smudge of Texada Island to the south; tow boats and booms working mid-channel; the Forbidden Plateau's distant snowfields glimmering in the terrifically harsh flat light. Like Port, already dying of fever, conscious of something like "a cold piece of metal" high in his chest. Robert Stone must have looked carefully at Bowles' clear prose, Robert Bingham too. Those last eighty pages, with Kit wandering lost in the desert, no longer human but "an object," a reflexively registering machine, felt like being punched repeatedly in the face and head. Or at least this was my excuse when I drove off the ferry into oncoming traffic.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
 

On the road. Back soon.
 
New work-in-progress Pulpfiction Books website, to replace the old, four-years-out-of-date one:

"WHAT KIND OF BOOKS DO YOU BUY?

Books We Never Buy

Harlequins, Book Club hardcovers, textbooks, damaged books, highlighted or marked books, computer books, encyclopedia sets, kids' series (Goosebumps; Animorphs; Saddle Club), self-published poetry, 99% of all sports and business books, stolen books, books we already have too many of.

Books We're Always Interested in Seeing

Contemporary fiction, science fiction, fantasy, mysteries, Beat writing, visual art and architecture, classic kids' books (Richard Scarry; Enid Blyton; Roald Dahl), science, travel, cultural studies and philosophy, etc. Our customers are well-read, unconventional, and bright."
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
 

Strings and melancholy, keeping me company as I haul boxes in from the car through sundown, through superheated air....

Maple Leaves
Words and music by Jens Lekman

It's autumn in Gothenburg
I'm walking home to my suburb
Rain falls hard on the city
on every homeless kitty

Oh please God bring relief
even if it's only brief
that she says the dreamer just make-believe
but I thought she said maple leaves

So we talked for hours
and you cried into my sheets
you said you hated your body
that it was just a piece of meat, I disagreed

I think you're beautiful
but it's impossible
to make you understand
that if you don't take my hand
I lose my mind completely
Madness will finally defeat me

She said it was all make-believe
but I thought you said maple leaves
and when she talked about the fall
I thought she talked about the season
I never understood at all

I thought she said maple leaves
and when she talked about about the fall
I thought she talked about Mark E. Smith
I never understood at all
I never understood at all
I never understood at all
 

One Hundred Famous Ghosts (62), 2007
 
CJB is installing/reading/catalog essay writing/on vacation for the rest of the week. Sporadic updates as time and energy permits.

In process:

Ryszard Kapuściński, Travels With Herodotus
Linda Nochlin, Courbet
J.M. Coetzee, Foe
Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

 

Home at Last

Some young Irish guy took his cameraphone along to his front-row seats at the Steely Dan Show and brought back footage. The sound's a little off, but the sight of Mr. Fagen crouched, grinning, over his Fender Rhodes, with his Ray Charles specs, seriously askew hair, and scraggly white goatee makes me smile. Not captured on cameraphone: Sir Paul and David Gilmour, only a few rows back from the stage.

A surplus of SD-themed bonanzas oozing through the interwebs' pipes at the moment, including surplus close-up footage from the same date, and an entire 2003 concert, shot on an in-house camera, complete with lap dissolves and soundboard-quality music (I linked to this concert's instrumental opener, Art Blakey's Cubano Chant, last week. Lots more since then, including Godwhacker, The Caves of Altamira, and the Walter Becker-sung Slang of Ages).
 
Verlyn Klinkenborg remembers writer/curator/photographer John Szarkowski:

"What he demonstrated, in fact, was the very thing that good curators are able to do. He remained himself, and yet he was changed by what he saw."
 

Recent Photographs
Mike Grill
July 13 -- August 26, 2007

CSA Space
#5 - 2414 Main Street
Vancouver, British Columbia
Canada

Opening Friday, July 13 7-9:30pm

Curated by Steven Tong and Christopher Brayshaw


Monday, July 09, 2007
 



Scenes around the bookstore. Above, the shop's much-loved plastic rats. Below, New Guy preemptively excorciates the senior staff's old-school fanboy taste.
 

Today's soundtrack: the Super Friendz' buzzing melancholic 10 Lbs.

But she doesn't come alone, she comes with a friend
And that means you, you've come around
So bells ring
And whistles blow
At least I'm alive, at least I'm alive

You take the highway in and you take it home
And I walk through pattern blocks kinda alone
You should never laugh at other people's jokes
'cause I fill up with pride
I live my life in the hopes
I live my life in the hopes. . . .

Sunday, July 08, 2007
 

CJB gestures dramatically; Fiona Forbes contemplates washing, having handled Robin Bougie's Cinemasewer; Michael Eckford squints at the studio clock, wondering, "Will this guy ever shut up?" Screen grab courtesy Keefer.
 

Can you hear the evil crowd
The lies and the laughter
I hear my inside
The mechanized hum of another world
Where no sun is shining
No red light flashing
Here in this darkness
I know what I've done
I know all at once who I am


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