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9/7/03. I saw this girl in Dallas, having lunch at the Z cafe on Henderson with a bunch of alternative looking 20somethings. She was wearing some kind of taffeta party dress and heels with a jean jacket or some other casual top. I didn't draw her in situ but from memory the next day, sitting in the Houston airport. Is it possible for clothing to be stupid and sexy at the same time?
9/8/03. Two-hour layover at the Atlanta airport. A nightmare.
What is with the Democrats and all this "now we're in Iraq we have to pour it on and win the war" crap? First Dean did a 180, and as I was sitting in the airport listening to mandatory CNN I heard Carol Moseley Braun on Crossfire spouting the same nonsense. How about supporting the troops by airlifting them out?
How about 87 billion for schools?
I've returned from my Texas trip. Highlights include watching herons, gulls, and turnstones on the beach on Padre Island; seeing my uncle Roy's amazing 1/8 scale model steam railroad, comprised of over two miles of track, switches, bridges, trestles, and turntables winding through his ranch property in central Texas (pictures to follow); visiting Scott Barber's exhibition at Barry Whistler Gallery (during pre-opening installation) and John Pomara's studio in Dallas; meeting writer Frederick Turner at an otherwise weird University of Texas at Dallas soiree in the redeveloped Sears Building south of downtown; seeing long-lost family and friends.
More self-indulgent vacation pics. Padre Island National Seashore
Padre Island National Seashore (facing east). Brought to you by
Mazda Protegé TM. Escape today in a Mazda.
Thunderhead, on the way to Padre Island. Note evidence of
reckless driving in center.
Indianola. Once-thriving gateway to German immigration in Texas, reduced
to near-ghost town by a couple of big 19th Century hurricanes.
Texas, Day 3. At the AMC theatre at Westheimer and Dunvale in Houston, I watched Jeepers Creepers 2 on the screen the size of a battleship. The theatre complex is a theme park-like extravaganza--newish but already heat-faded. This is the air-conditioned outdoor ticket kiosk, protecting a single taciturn clerk from the 90-degree heat. Matinee: $6. Concerning JC2, I have a friend who's boycotting the director Victor Salva's movies because of a certain incident in the '80s. Well, the filmmaker did his time--maybe not enough, I don't know the whole story--and now he's displaying his vivid (albeit NAMBLA-leaning) imagination onscreen with mind-boggling cinematography, tortured religious imagery, and barely-hidden homoerotic themes (at one point the monster looks into a schoolbus full of buff football players and licks the window). It's hard not to think of "the Creeper," a sexualizing if not sexual predator who is repeatedly impaled and crucified by straight hicks but simply can't be killed, as an amped-up cinematic stand-in for the director. More on all this later. See the movie, though--it's poetic, scary, Satanic fun.
Oh, yeah, here's a review of the first Jeepers worth reading (popup warning). The author describes the movie quite intensely (if inaccurately) because he or she is looking so hard for evidence of Salva's criminality. Sample paragraph:
There is also the scene were the monster has captured the teens and is deciding who it should take. After a prolonged moment of sniffing both teens in a very sexual manner, the monster then licks the girl and decides to keep the boy throwing her aside and pulling the boy close to him. At this moment the cops burst in and attempt to fight the monster. The creature starts vibrating violently while holding the boy in front of it. The scene recalls rather eerily some sort of s0domy sex sequence. Moments later the monster sprouts wings (the reason for the vibrating movements) and flies away.Gosh, is that what happened in that scene?
I'm posting this from Houston. I shipped myself down here inside the sarcophagus below, not anticipating that it would go directly into a glass case and I'd have to type by laptop-light. Actually, I'm lying, this picture was taken at the relatively new Museum of Fine Arts, one floor up from the imposing "donor wall," which features hundreds of names of wealthy Houstonians etched in granite. I'll have to redo this photo when I get back home; The Mac-based software I used to resize and "enhance" it left it a bit blurry. [UPDATE: I was able to tweak it a little more "on the road"--it's less fuzzy now.]
I'm on vacation, so I rented a brand new Mazda Protegé TM with air-conditioning and a working CD player. After 8 years of public transportation cattlecars back East I must say cruising up I-45 with German tech-house tick-ticking in the speakers was...so fine. I didn't even mind it when traffic slowed to a dead stop. I have a vague plan of going down to Padre Island, then up to the real ranch country west of the President's wimpy farm, then Dallas. We'll see what works out.