Rather than field sixty emails a day about the fate and status of ill repute, I might as well lay things out here. While there have been no new posts since approximately 1983, the future of the project is very much established and fixed and all such similar things. What we are experiencing at the moment is the usual summer hiatus, which is slated to last until the full summers’ quota of proper decent weather has been fulfilled. This was a negotiated stipulation in Mr Fournier’s contract from the beginning of the outset, and one we are determined to respect. In any event we can’t particularly complain, as Eli has much of a similar outage lined up for the coming winter evenings, during which time he is in the court-mandated habit of distributing hot port to homeless Asian sailors (or in their absence, redistributing the bottles into more personal avenues).
Despite all this there is between little and no reason for anyone to fret about a lack of reading material, as manifold other projects are underway. While many of these are behind closed doors at the minute and will probably remain so for the forseeable, cash settlements notwithstanding, the mere fact of their existence is expected to be of great comfort to the average reader. Should it turn out that the marketing gurus have miscalculated on this point, feel free to pick the nearest convenient billboards and assume they are part of a vast and thoroughly entertaining viral marketing campaign, the oblique and succulent mysteries of which will doubtless occupy you for weeks on end.
In the more immediate meantime, be sure to stay tuned for news of my upcoming sitcom project. It’s a bold and genre-bending opus that will fry your tiny little minds with its sheer unfettered twelve-gauge 40-proof five-alarm wit and sparkle; think of it as Saved by the Bell meets Grey’s Anatomy meets Shaft in Africa. Ladies and gentlemen, I call it Hippo Campus.
Always the hipster bridesmaid, I made it to the second SoundCheck on South William Street last night. Good times… the genius of it is that it starts at seven, so if you’re working in the morning you can drink cheap cocktails for four hours and still get the last bus home. (Also, one of said cocktails essentially amounts to Tequila Yop, which you will agree is an intriguing prospect.)
I was fully prepared for the music to go completely over my head, so much so that when the deliciously pneumatic opening beat of Closer kicked in it didn’t occur to me that it might actually be Nine Inch Nails. Kudos to the man who threw that on, you made my night. The guy I was with functions better than I as a musical barometer and the sets seemed to pass muster, though for my money they could do with a bit more liveliness if they want to hit proper funsies.
They were projecting An American Werewolf in London on the wall, and while there was no sound I did get to see it three times so I can confidently say it’s the best film ever made. Highlights include a progressively decaying best friend, dream sequences involving what appear to be zomb-Nazis and a puzzling scene wherein some Americans piss off an entire pub full of Welsh people by pointing at something out of shot.
Anyway, to summarise: B+, would attend again. And next time I’m going to take some French fancies instead of just staring at them all night.
I’m not gonna lie, conditions have not been favourable, but I think it’s high time we had some actual life and actual times of actual hypothetical dead men around here. Later today.
(Whoever googled “vicar street cloakroom”: I’m sorry, I do not know where your jacket is.)
It was inauspicious, thank you very much. Not only did I receive some unfavourably unceremonious career news, I also managed to embarrass myself in front of the world’s pre-eminent Discordians. I addressed this by sitting on a balcony and staring into the middle distance while poking a cat with a broom handle* and slugging emergency cocktails.
However. My day has officially been salvaged, because what cocktails they are. Roughly equal parts spiced rum (Morgan’s, natch) and fresh apple juice (the proper stuff, what you might see in organic markets - Fallon & Byrne is a good place to pick it up). What’s it like? Imagine a good lascivious helping of apple-upside-down-cake** wearing a low-cut dress and sweating it up on the dance floor of an jazz fusion dive in Havana. Yes, you do want to try it.
*We don’t want our neighbours to know she’s here, so we can’t let her jump up on the railing. This ruse does assume that our neighbours are deaf.
**Allegedly this is better known as “Eve’s pudding“.
Toasted chicken sandwich with Dubliner cheese and sweetcorn, followed by strawberry milk. It was delicious. It’s the little things, you know?
Not sure what happened there. But to get things started up again… well, if you haven’t already seen it, check out BigDog, the quadruped robot. It’s really cool and all, but with the way it minces around it does look kind of prissy. Like it’s constantly having a tiny robotic tantrum.
Stay tuned over the next few days for a thing. And look! You can now share things. With people.
Direct link here, or follow the usual channels.
The first fragment is up and can be found here. I’m still screwing around with the format - expect some links to make navigation easier when things get properly going.
Also there should be a Thomas McGuane review up here by now but…there isn’t. Stay tuned.
…being a rambling inquiry into the past and present whereabouts of one E. M. Esq.
The image on the main page will become clickable in due order, thus leading into part the first, with further updates following with mathematically precise sporadicity. I freely admit that while I know where I’m going with this, I don’t know exactly how I’ll get there. Should be fun! For me.
In the meantime…well, you’re here already, aren’t you?
(PS: Are tags any use? As opposed to just using categories, like.)
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