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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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So much attention for what has amounted to ridiculously little news. Things like "North Korea wanted Eric Clapton to play a concert there..." or other bits of political trivia and gossip, but in terms of earth-shattering disclosures (JFK was assassinated by the CIA, Washington has long been in correspondence with Alien Intelligences, An Escape Plan has been readied to shelter the wealthy and privileged from the impending environmental apocalypse...) there have been none.
Not that it would change anything. People have a tendency to see what they want, the news spins the leaks in whatever direction is convenient to it's audience - Fox would have Assange shot and tried as a traitor (in that order), other media tend to be a little more lenient. In any event, whatever the leaks disclose, no one is changing their mind about anything, if they serve a purpose at all it's to further entrench people in their beliefs.
Wired has an article on the Psychology of Conspiracy Theories, which explains how people deal with others questioning or challenging their beliefs.
Interesting, if you like that sort of stuff.
What is also interesting is how the US government is pursuing Assange, given the relatively innocuous nature of the leaks they are certainly wholeheartedly pursuing any and all avenues to result in his silence. Which makes you think that maybe they have something to hide that the leaks aren't revealing....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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And, on the last few pages of "The Heptameron" I'm stricken with inspiration.
Stricken, I say, because it's not so uncommon, these fits, and I hastily grab a pen and paper (conveniently beside me) to make my notes.
Like always, there's 90% of the project, the idea, the painting, play or novel, done. But the remaining 10% is as elusive as ever, and I marvel at how completely unrelated it is. I mean, the inspiration vs the book I'm reading, vs the paintings I'm painting, vs the dreams I'm dreaming and the company I'm keeping, it's completely unrelated. So I make my notes and puzzle on how to complete it, to be added to the hundreds of notebooks of things begun and left unfinished.
***
Today, in the mail "Magic and Mystery in Tibet", I've been waiting for it. And at exactly the right time, as I finish up my book. This looks promising.
***
The boy wants me to attend his parent-teacher interview. Partly because he's done well, partly because he's hoping it'll explain his social awkwardness. The teachers have nothing bad to say and I'm careful to act the role of the concerned and normal parent. He's shocked I can pull it off, but I tell him: "You're not the only one who's studied drama...", and to make matters worse his teachers now mention my carefully "carelessly" dropped comments about his taste for death-heavy-metal, Marilyn Manson posters and dark basements; they "know" him now and he's furious that he's not winning any sympathy...
***
Trade my books in to Fairs-Fair on 17th Ave. 7 books yields me enough credit for 1 paperback. A 7 to 1 profit margin. But Fair's-Fair.
***
And there are the paintings I'm doing for Christmas - everyone gets a painting whether they want it or not. I don't ask because I know what the answer would be. At first there was some thought of doing portraits, but I decided against it, time and talent prohibit that investment, instead I'll do their dogs. The boy, he's seen the rhinoceros in the kitchen, he cautions me against it "You're animals aren't so good, you know dad, remember that bull in the kitchen..." "Rhinoceros" I correct him; "And my animals are just fine, haven't you looked at my people?".
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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An 8:10 appointment at the dentist.
And I'm up at 6:00 AM, just to be safe, leave the house at 7:30 to allow for traffic. You don't want to be late for the dentist.
Outside, still dark, cold, go to scrape the windows. Open door, close door, drivers side window explodes. Completely explodes.
This is a 2008 VW Rabbit, if you're curious.
Now I'm annoyed, more than annoyed, and I'm late, so I think of calling my dentist to cancel (but you pay regardless) and so I hastily sweep the glass up off the street, throw a leather coat on the seat so I don't get cut on the broken glass, and make my dentist appointment only 10 minutes late.
Then home, call the dealership. "How did this happen?" I ask, because I'm curious, in almost 30 years of driving I've never seen the spontaneous explosion of a car window. They don't know. But it will be around $700 to fix. And I have to drive out and prepay for the part to be ordered.
I'm in a bit of a rage, really. Since taking on my unemployment the single biggest expense has been this fucking car. $500.00 to repair the hail damage, and I didn't drive it for 3 weeks. Now $700.00 + maintenance for another act of God (or shitty engineering by Volkswagen). All told I calculate with all expenses considered it's about $100.00 every fucking time I get into this car, and I'm not making the payments. I should really entomb the car in glass and go back to the restaurant to make payments on it. It's my own private Juggernaut, the unaffordable symbol of crap western manufacture and crass commercialism. It's not worth driving because, frankly, even working 18 hours a day I couldn't afford the freaking expense.
Now to the carwash to try and vacuum out the ten million shards of glass that litter the car seat and floor, buy some plastic to tape over the window (because this won't be repaired anytime soon), go and prepay for the window to be ordered...
So begins my day.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Sometimes I goad myself into working by comparing my life, to date, with Van Goghs.
It's a reminder of how easy I really have it.
Van Gogh: Dead at 37.
Me: Alive at forty-odd.
Van Gogh: Candlelight & Gaslight. Painting mostly limited to daylight hours.
Me: Alive in the time of Electricity. Could paint 24/7 if I were so inclined...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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"Don't make eye contact" I tell myself, but it's hard, it's a rhinoceros and it's in my kitchen.
I make coffee in the mornings, glance over, acknowledge it, then find ways of procrastinating. More coffee, breakfast, snacks, bite of lunch, dinner, I wander past it head in the air, down to the basement to clean the cat litter.
It's been there for a week.