WIP (Yeah, I can do that–my whole life is Still a WIP–I hope)

This wonderful video built by Francesca Maria deserves its own stand-alone post. Below is obviously

NOT Francesca

But it is the height of praise from me to lump her in with Olivia….

Only faithful readers of this blog will understand, and that’s just fine with me.

I am WIP’ing on it.

But, While you wait….

(Helpful hint: It’s better with headphones. The sound is very soft and subtle)

Looks of Love

Lame – ass Author’s note:

Every image in this masterpiece of a vid by Francesca could be a post (written by someone who knows how to write). Not me. Obviously. But, God as My witness! I am gonna try. The work she (Francesca) put into constructing this…. Only I can imagine. Lots of Y’all do not understand how posters, such as I and of course Francesca, how much thought goes into finding just the ‘right’ vid, image, meme. It takes time. It takes fucking time.

And it takes work.

Lots of work.

And she found a way to make it all black and white!

She is a fucking artistic genius! I have run fresh out of accolades to heap on her vid, but, trust me: I ain’t done yet.

***

Francesca in her own words:

Francesca Maria
11.6K subscribers

The Real Deal Here/Above.

(She is beautiful, yes? Say ‘Yes’ or I will take your legs)

***

I love Italian women.

Especially the smart ones.

But they make me feel so… what’s the word?

‘Inadequate’

Yeah.

That’s the word.

Go see her here:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIVEhoVV97xOWbhWf2orN_w

Tutti abbiamo bisogno di qualcuno che ci guardi. A seconda del tipo di sguardo sotto il quale vogliamo vivere, potremmo essere suddivisi in quattro categorie. La prima categoria desidera lo sguardo di un numero infinito di occhi anonimi […] La seconda categoria è composta da quelli che per vivere hanno bisogno dello sguardo di molti occhi a loro conosciuti […] C’è poi la terza categoria, la categoria di quelli che hanno bisogno di essere davanti agli occhi della persona amata […] E c’è infine una quarta categoria, la più rara, quella di coloro che vivono sotto lo sguardo immaginario di persone assenti. Sono i sognatori.

***

More Looks of Love:

Beautiful Bangle Girl Susanna Hoffs

Vid Cred: Abby Okk

***

Last Look of Love.

This one is well done—

Shit!

They are all well-done–hard to fuck up this music. Some have tried though…..

You will not see those failed versions here. Not from me..

I only steal the good shit.

Beautiful Dionne Warwick

***

Goddamn! Look close! She dropped in Nat Wood!

There is just so much more ‘right’ with Francesca’s Vid.

So much fodder to mine.

I will never find my time…

To drop enuff dimes

Nor find my mind.

And, fuck me!

Audrey!

You will have to scroll down.

See how easy it is?

I have already written on many of these images (in a former, reeel writer life—ha ha ha!)

***

And of course:

Lauren Bacall

And Judy’s in there somewhere over the fucking rainbow….

I could spend endless weeks, years, tears, beers on Francesca’s brilliant vid. I probably will…..

In other words:

My current writing ‘project’ is properly fucked.

WIP (Yeah, I can do that–my whole life is a WIP–I hope)

This wonderful video built by Francesca Maria deserves its own stand-alone post.

I am WIP’ing on it.

But, While you wait….

(Helpful hint: It’s better with headphones. The sound is very soft and subtle)

Looks of Love

Lame – ass Author’s note:

Every image in this masterpiece of a vid by Francesca could be a post (written by someone who knows how to write). Not me. Obviously. But, God as My witness! I am gonna try. The work she (Francesca) put into constructing this…. Only I can imagine. Lots of Y’all do not understand how posters, such as I and of course Francesca, how much thought goes into finding just the ‘right’ vid, image, meme. It takes time. It takes fucking time.

And it takes work.

Lots of work.

And she found a way to make it all black and white!

She is a fucking artistic genius! I have run fresh out of accolades to heap on her vid, but, trust me: I ain’t done yet.

***

Francesca in her own words:

Francesca Maria
11.6K subscribers

Go see her here:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIVEhoVV97xOWbhWf2orN_w

Tutti abbiamo bisogno di qualcuno che ci guardi. A seconda del tipo di sguardo sotto il quale vogliamo vivere, potremmo essere suddivisi in quattro categorie. La prima categoria desidera lo sguardo di un numero infinito di occhi anonimi […] La seconda categoria è composta da quelli che per vivere hanno bisogno dello sguardo di molti occhi a loro conosciuti […] C’è poi la terza categoria, la categoria di quelli che hanno bisogno di essere davanti agli occhi della persona amata […] E c’è infine una quarta categoria, la più rara, quella di coloro che vivono sotto lo sguardo immaginario di persone assenti. Sono i sognatori.

***

I love Italian women.

Especially the smart ones.

But they make me feel so… what’s the word?

‘Inadequate’

Yeah.

That’s the word.

***

Goddamn! Look close! She dropped in Nat Wood!

There is just so much more ‘right’ with Francesca’s Vid.

So much fodder to mine.

I will never find my time…

Nor my mind.

And, fuck me!

Audrey!

You will have to scroll down.

See how easy it is?

I have already written on many of these images (in a former, reeel writer life—ha ha ha!)

***

And of course:

Lauren Bacall

And Judy’s in there somewhere over the fucking rainbow….

I could spend endless weeks, years, tears, beers on Francesca’s brilliant vid. I probably will…..

In other words:

My current writing ‘project’ is properly fucked.

I am gonna repost this for two reasons:

It’s a Shakespeare kind of day.

Ok??

One: because I missed Thursday

(Probably because I was in a coma)

Two: because I can.

And here is the bonus:

Because I miss Jimmy ‘Peanut’ Piland.

*****

“I dreamt a dream tonight.”

“And so did I.”

“Well, what was yours?”

“That dreamer’s often lie.”

“…In bed asleep while they do dream things true!”

“Oh! Then I see Queen Mab hath been with you!”

–R&J: Romeo and Mercutio,

Queen Mab:

Ya’ll gotta watch the video “or it all just falls apart” Just saying… (Yes! I feign Texan; it is my wont.)

After a night of hard blogging and writing of drafts, and becoming somewhat disillusioned and more than daft, I perished toward my bed, reaching out for the Arms of Morpheus.

Within moments, I slipped into that nether sleep, that sleep between sleeps, that semi-conscious state of affairs. Sleep, but Not Sleep.

Then I began to dream things that should have been true. But were not true, yet so true.

Wonderful words words words! Words to sate my unnourished prose.

Words swirl’d about in my mind like so many fireflies on a summer’s eve:

““Words, words, words!. Once, I had the gift. I could make love out of words as a potter makes cups of clay. Love that overthrows empires. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone.”

— “Will Shakespeare in Love”

I had it (them, those) words… goin’ on. Brilliant words. Beautiful, poignant words! All right there! Right there In My Mind. I reached out my finger to tap the “Publish” Mouse.

My finger was frozen.

It would not move.

How hard I did try!

It would not comply!

I lay there in my nether sleep, commanding.

The hand, the one digit, just the finger! Demanding!

Just move the damn finger!

Would not.

Could not.

Then I realized:

I am with Dante now.

And Mercutio is Peanut.

And Peanut was my Mercutio

Yeah, Dante

Dante ‘R’ Us

Christopher Hitchens: On The Suicide of His Mother

This seems to be popular.

Of late.

fuk it.

Perhaps it is just the sign of the seasons….

Maybe we all want to commit suicide.

Relinquish the world back to the roaches.

Surely they could do no worse, management – wise.

The below is transcribed from Hitch’s book “Hitch-22”

Hitch 22 cigs

***

…because most of what I know about manic depression I first learned from Hamlet.

“I have of late,” the Prince of Denmark tells us, “but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth.” Everyone living has occasionally experienced that feeling, but the lines that accompany it are the best definition of the blues that was ever set down. (“Tired of living, scared of dying” is the next-best encapsulation, offered in “Old Man River.”) Who would carry on with the unending tedium and potential misery if they did not think that extinction would even be less desirable or—as it is phrased in another of Hamlet’s mood-swing soliloquies—if “the ever-lasting” had “not set his canon ‘gainst self-slaughter”?

There are fourteen suicides in eight works of Shakespeare, according to Giles Romilly Feddnen’s study of the question, and these include the deliberate and ostensibly noble ones of Romeo and Juliet and of Othello. It’s of interest that only Hamlet’s darling Ophelia, whose death at her own hands is not strictly intentional, it is the object of condemnation by the clergy. My own indifference to religion and refusal to credit any babble about an afterlife has, alas, denied me the hearty satisfaction experienced by Ophelia’s brother Laertes, who whirls on the moralizing cleric to say:

“I tell thee, churlish priest,

A ministering angel shall my sister be,

When thou liest howling.”

Memorable to be sure, but too dependent on the evil and stupidity of the heaven/hell dualism, and of scant use to me in deciding how it was that a thoughtful, loving, cheerful, person like Yvonne, who was in reasonable health, would want to simply give up.

I thought it might have something to do with what the specialists call “anhedonia,” or the sudden inability to derive pleasure from anything, most especially from the pleasurable. Al Alverez, in his very testing and demanding study of the subject, “The Savage God,” returns often to the suicide of Cesare Pavese, who took his own life at the apparent height of his powers.  

Don't stay here

“In the year before he died he turned out two of his best novels… One month before the end he received the Strega Prize, the supreme accolade for an Italian writer. ‘I have never been so much alive as now,’ he wrote, ‘never so young.’ A few days later he was dead. Perhaps the sweetness itself of his creative powers made his innate depression all the harder to bear.”

***

Thank you for reading.

-Lance

(We now return you to our regularly scheduled…)

For Reference:

I love Helena Bonham Carter… Cannot help myself. (This scene is disturbing: do Not Watch)

If You Watch Nothing Else, Please Please PLEASE  Watch This:

Credit: And watch it AGAIN!

Here now (I hope) is the proper credit:

https://www.youtube.com/user/jakuerika

I am gonna repost this for two reasons:

One: because I missed Thursday

(Probably because I was in a coma)

Two: because I can.

And here is the bonus:

Because I miss Jimmy ‘Peanut’ Piland.

*****

“I dreamt a dream tonight.”

“And so did I.”

“Well, what was yours?”

“That dreamer’s often lie.”

“…In bed asleep while they do dream things true!”

“Oh! Then I see Queen Mab hath been with you!”

–R&J: Romeo and Mercutio,

Queen Mab:

Ya’ll gotta watch the video “or it all just falls apart” Just saying… (Yes! I feign Texan; it is my wont.)

After a night of hard blogging and writing of drafts, and becoming somewhat disillusioned and more than daft, I perished toward my bed, reaching out for the Arms of Morpheus.

Within moments, I slipped into that nether sleep, that sleep between sleeps, that semi-conscious state of affairs. Sleep, but Not Sleep.

Then I began to dream things that should have been true. But were not true, yet so true.

Wonderful words words words! Words to sate my unnourished prose.

Words swirl’d about in my mind like so many fireflies on a summer’s eve:

““Words, words, words!. Once, I had the gift. I could make love out of words as a potter makes cups of clay. Love that overthrows empires. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone.”

— “Will Shakespeare in Love”

I had it (them, those) words… goin’ on. Brilliant words. Beautiful, poignant words! All right there! Right there In My Mind. I reached out my finger to tap the “Publish” Mouse.

My finger was frozen.

It would not move.

How hard I did try!

It would not comply!

I lay there in my nether sleep, commanding.

The hand, the one digit, just the finger! Demanding!

Just move the damn finger!

Would not.

Could not.

Then I realized:

I am with Dante now.

And Mercutio is Peanut.

And Peanut was my Mercutio

Yeah, Dante

Dante ‘R’ Us

Christopher Hitchens: On The Suicide of His Mother

The below is transcribed from Hitch’s book “Hitch-22”

Hitch 22 cigs

***

…because most of what I know about manic depression I first learned from Hamlet.

“I have of late,” the Prince of Denmark tells us, “but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth.” Everyone living has occasionally experienced that feeling, but the lines that accompany it are the best definition of the blues that was ever set down. (“Tired of living, scared of dying” is the next-best encapsulation, offered in “Old Man River.”) Who would carry on with the unending tedium and potential misery if they did not think that extinction would even be less desirable or—as it is phrased in another of Hamlet’s mood-swing soliloquies—if “the ever-lasting” had “not set his canon ‘gainst self-slaughter”?

There are fourteen suicides in eight works of Shakespeare, according to Giles Romilly Feddnen’s study of the question, and these include the deliberate and ostensibly noble ones of Romeo and Juliet and of Othello. It’s of interest that only Hamlet’s darling Ophelia, whose death at her own hands is not strictly intentional, it is the object of condemnation by the clergy. My own indifference to religion and refusal to credit any babble about an afterlife has, alas, denied me the hearty satisfaction experienced by Ophelia’s brother Laertes, who whirls on the moralizing cleric to say:

“I tell thee, churlish priest,

A ministering angel shall my sister be,

When thou liest howling.”

Memorable to be sure, but too dependent on the evil and stupidity of the heaven/hell dualism, and of scant use to me in deciding how it was that a thoughtful, loving, cheerful, person like Yvonne, who was in reasonable health, would want to simply give up.

I thought it might have something to do with what the specialists call “anhedonia,” or the sudden inability to derive pleasure from anything, most especially from the pleasurable. Al Alverez, in his very testing and demanding study of the subject, “The Savage God,” returns often to the suicide of Cesare Pavese, who took his own life at the apparent height of his powers.  

Don't stay here

“In the year before he died he turned out two of his best novels… One month before the end he received the Strega Prize, the supreme accolade for an Italian writer. ‘I have never been so much alive as now,’ he wrote, ‘never so young.’ A few days later he was dead. Perhaps the sweetness itself of his creative powers made his innate depression all the harder to bear.”

***

Thank you for reading.

-Lance

(We now return you to our regularly scheduled…)

For Reference:

 

I love Helena Bonham Carter… Cannot help myself. (This scene is disturbing: do Not Watch)

If You Watch Nothing Else, Please Please PLEASE  Watch This:

Credit: And watch it AGAIN!

Here now (I hope) is the proper credit:

https://www.youtube.com/user/jakuerika