Futility Now » I expect your father has been reading Dante

Important!

jmags — Tue, 01 May 2012 04:52:49 +0000

Here are some pictures of the sky looking ominous.

Here is a truck with one of everything on it.

Here are some excellent chicken and waffles from Mack and Dub’s Excellent Chicken and Waffles.

Here is some sweet, sweet New Aesthetic action for you.

Trini Bad

jmags — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 21:35:47 +0000

So we just got home from Trinidad. In Trinidad we drank fine wines, at delicious food and lounged around in a hot tub. On the downside, Hazel really did a number on her ankle because she was looking at the spectacular view instead of the porch in front of her. Now she’s on crutches. At any rate, here are a bunch of pictures.

There was also a lot of rain, but it was nice to just watch it through the windows. The drive home was also pretty soggy, and we stopped on the other side of Rice Hill, which is always fun.

The Sordid Details

jmags — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 06:32:33 +0000

So as I said, there was some home improvement and it was insane. The drain basket that was in our sink was old enough that any effort to hold it in place while unscrewing the basket’s nut (heh heh) resulted in the ancient metal shearing off. This is (most of) the basket and the nut after it had finally been wrenched from the sink.

Here is the old and the new passing one another.

In the middle of the process, we took a break for pupusas.

On the way home, the world was clearly ending.

The next day we recovered at the aesthetically-consistent Little Big Burger.

Crossing the River

jmags — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 03:46:52 +0000

Character

jmags — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 22:32:34 +0000

So we went to a charmingly goofy opening at Monograph. While we were there, availed ourselves of an old typewriter by the door. True to form, Hazel wrote something sweet, and I wrote something standoffish.

(standoff fish?)

Pictures from that cool little park at the end of Skidmore.

Here is Yoshi stepping on my face.

Bus Stop Shots

jmags — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 05:29:49 +0000

Dusk

jmags — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 20:19:35 +0000

Pictures from the window of a friend’s place in North Portland.

Scenes

jmags — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 01:32:44 +0000

More graveyard photos:

(Those cookies were SO terrible.)

Here are some dudes in old-timey diving suits attending a crypt:

Here’s some stuff around Belleville:

Here is some delicious food that we ate:

Here are some pictures from out second trip to the Marche au Puce:

Here’s me looking maudlin:

And all you can hear is a radio somewhere, playing a pig of a song:

I Don’t Know The Words

jmags — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 05:22:44 +0000

Here are some photos presented in a less verbose context.

Hazel and I took a day trip to Arles, which is a pretty cool town. Here is a picture of a cat who hangs out at a cafe in Arles.

Here is a forlorn-looking infants shoe stuck on a tree in the square of Saint Chinian.

Here are some prawns we ate on our last night in Saint Chinian

Here are Hazel and Zia in Beziers, where Hazel and I caught the train back to Paris.

Here is a rather handsome metal door in Beziers.

Last Beziers photo: For various reasons that we don’t really need to go into detail about, Hazel and I were sort of exhausted by the time my mom drove on with Zia. Rather than wait in the train station, we went to a rawther rustic bar and drank Ricard.

Then we went back to Paris, where we belong. Here is the sky from our hotel window.

Here is Hazel drinking wine by the Canal Saint-Martin while we wait for pizza from Pink Flamingo.

Here are the pizzas for which we waited. The one on the left is called L’Obama, and it’s ham and pineapple chutney. Verdict: amazing!

Here is some rubble we saw after eating pizza and before we got on the metro for further adventures.

Oranges are Not the Only Fruit

jmags — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 19:44:45 +0000

After stumbling out of the Louvre we tried to go to Musée des Arts décoratifs, but it was closed, because there is nothing the French love so much as being closed. We instead wandered into The Tuileries Garden and had some sort of frozen melon beverage that made Gray’s Papaya look like some kind of fancy juice bar. Thus invigorated we staggered to Musée de l’Orangerie where we looked at a bunch of paintings of a frog pond.

Downstairs from its most famous exhibit, l’Orangerie contains the collection of a man who was more or less the French Donald Trump of the turn of the century (the last turn of the century, not this most recent one which is really only a mid-80s rehash anyways.) It was very charming, except when it served to remind us by comparison of how degraded out times are.

In the evening we tried to go out in the Marais, but we went down the wrong Rue .* Temple, and couldn’t find the place we wanted, and were disappointed in the substitute we tried out. Instead we went to a bar immediately outside our metro stop and had a grand time. Because it was our last evening in the first hotel, I pointed my camera wistfully out of the window.