Over the Moon
Many years ago I made a mental agreement with myself that while shooting on location I would continuously try to find at least one simple curio from wherever I happen to be. Whether I am conveniently close to home or thousands of kilometers away I still search for the city’s treasures to call my own. These days the trinkets are more geared
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My input for the Playstationers’ Booster Club: definite “yea” on the blender issue. After all, they’re getting to that stage where “puree” is practically the preferred preparation of dinner. I am not one to underestimate the value of kitchen appliances or accessories, so please take this as my official RSVP to the Pampered Chef party that you’re planning to have after the required ceremony for award nominees.
As for Vernon, I can’t help but be reminded of that film that starred Gregory Hines and Mikhail Baryshnikov entitled White Nights. In that riveting film, Gregory Hines’ character was a dancer that defected to the Soviet Union in order to protest the Vietnam War. Not exactly sure if communism is viable these days, but in case you’re interested, I suppose we can renew our subscription to Pravda, comrade mine. However, I must insist that the sanctity of my copy of Mao Tse-tung’s Little Red Book be respected.
In anticipation for our extended yoga-inspired tantric ambitions, I’ve taken the liberty of starting a modest routine while you have “quality time” with your chair. If I seem more limber than I have these past several days, consider it the combined effects of the dark club featuring cover bands that play the Melodians, the Heptones and Ken Boothe, a crowd that’s dancing too close in a very small and hot space, an obscene amount of ale and a fond remembrance of the mess we made while feeding each other jerk chicken.
Did you plan this evening based on your recollection of acquiring that chair? I can think of other things to do in your Brooding Chair, but I’ll respect that you have an emotional investment and it shall henceforth be known as a pure and pristine place of contemplation and reflection.
I heartily approve of your choice for tonight’s accommodation, though. The décor is exquisite and without equal in its tendency toward the baroque. The wall-to-wall mirrors and the little coin-operated vibration machine on the bedside table add to the charm. Which reminds me, it’s been an entire ten minutes, John. I have a pocket full of change and I’m feeling lucky.
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Considering that large populations of elderlies attract health care providers and injury lawyers alike, I am glad to submit your yea, and appreciate the concern you are showing for our Playstationer friend’s tender esophagi. I am elated that you will attend. The exhibition I am looking forward to the most is the “Apple-Peeler-Corer-Slicer”, it’s truly an intriguing machine and I can’t wait to learn its mechanics. Do you suppose I should draft an invitation?
Do not attempt to thwart my brooding chair love with references of little red books. It is a knee-jerk style, Craig. Knee. Jerk. Tse-tung’s Marxism-Leninism thoughts really aren’t comparable to what Vernon was droning on about Castro. I don’t believe our good Rastafarian saw the error in anarcho-fascism, whereas, if asked about Marx he would simply scoff and turn up his nose. The Pravda idea is really inspired. Their editorial staff is among the best in the world. I am especially impressed with Kira Poznakhirko’s biography; I insist that you read it at once.
Why are you trying to out pretzel me, Craig? I have been working on touching my big toe to my nose for weeks because I assumed you would have a “master yoga in 10 easy steps” trick up your sleeve. The stealthiest part of the game was that I could work on technique and not even move from my perch. When you asked what I had been pondering and I said “nuclear energy for electricity and how uranium affects our lives”, it was all a clever diversion. In regards to our Valentine’s reggae extravaganza, I must admit that I am still picking spices from my teeth.
I will pretend that I didn’t even see this part. My chair is a humble being! It has never been made aware that I take part in more questionable acts; it has only been made privy to my tenebrous thoughts.
The holier-than-thou atmosphere is what I found most pleasing. Did you happen to notice that there are at least twelve strategically placed bibles about the room? Not to mention crucifixion scene etched into the bathroom mirror. Perhaps this used to be a nunnery before the put in the ‘Thrill’ store downstairs. We must take advantage of their merchandise at once. I guarantee that feeling of good fortune will triple in a heartbeat.
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I am indeed interested in seeing the Apple-Peeler-Corer-Slicer in action, however, with a nod to my predictable fascination for electronic gadgets, I must have the digital thermometer. Why I would need a digital thermometer is something that’s unknown even to myself and perhaps best left to speculation. I just can’t help feeling that a small part of me would be incomplete without one.
Yes, Pravda is such an insightful and accurate source of news with such headlines as “Leonardo Da Vinci: Angel or Antichrist,” “Most Russians distrust police” and “Our Imperial Leader Has Spoken. Can We Doubt Him?” As much as I would like to believe that I’m a freethinking individual, open to new ideas and experiences, I’m not quite ready to have a picnic in the middle of Gorky Park. “Forward Together With the Party and the People” may be a great song to sing on a road trip down the M-10 from Moscow to St. Petersburg, but I’m not that eager to drive around in a rented late model Jeep Astero.
I did have my doubts about your intense rumination on the effect that uranium has in our every day lives. I didn’t have the heart to tell you that with our new water filtering system, all trace elements of Uranium (atomic weight of 238.02891 g, member of the Actinoid group) would be removed. Of course, what do I know of such things? I’ll leave the logical thinking to you.
I did indeed notice the religious overtones throughout the room. It’s amusing that you would mention the word ‘nunnery’. Do you think that the owner of this establishment was a fan of The Bard? I seem to recall reading somewhere that nunnery was slang for a brothel back in his day. Well, I think his interior decorator captured that lived-in and rented many times over bordello look.
I’m up for another round of “Father, I Confess.”
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I can think of many alluring attractions for your new digital thermometer, but if you continue with your declaration that it should be left to theory, then I will whisper my idea in your ear instead. If you would like to surmise the details before hand, please feel absolutely free. Might I turn your eye to the Chef’s “Entertaining Essentials gift set”? It proves to be a thrifty deal with many an amusing toy inside that could pop out at any moment.
The Russian’s have it better met than the American’s, Craig. I would prefer to read about the Renaissance man: heavenly being or foe. If the Russian’s see fit to ask the question it must be worth reading the answer, do you not agree? It’s better than war, bloodshed, or the daily “watch out for this man, call the tips hotline”. If I had information on a masked and armed criminal I would see fit to run away, not pick up the telephone. Color me ashamed. Actually, Russian’s are fans of the Toyota, Ford Focus, and the Lexus. I don’t think your fear of the poor Astero will be a problem.
You lost me at the atomic weight, so I will instead bow down to your rapier wit.
Indeed, they are suffering with the Bard. To be on the up and up, you must be let in on a little secret. There is a library of factoids in the room next to the lobby. I assumed it was an arcade and made my way in there with a pocket full of bits. What I found was an assortment of literature explaining in great detail exactly what these rooms were used for. “Father, I Confess” isn’t so far from the truth, Craig. Many a martyrize victim have haunted these walls.
Did you enjoy it?
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I have the blindfold ready for an encore performance.
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Ready and willing.
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