This isn't anything special, just a picture. I have on-again, off-again Net access these days, so I post when I get a chance, even if it's only half a post, with just a picture, no incisive textual commentary.
Maybe my friend Andrew will come up with some words to wrap around the picture. He recently came back from a self-imposed 30-day blip (which stands for "self-imposed blog silence," except the phrase is in Swiss, like CERN, which in Swiss stands for "the place where the Web was invented"). While he was gone, a devouring virus sucked all the bright-colored pixels off his blog template, and now the only points of illumination are the words themselves.
Or maybe Brother #3 will shine a light on the ramifications of branches in the night. He recently posted about black-and-white pictures of Gobelins, so I know he knows from Hallowe'eny spookulage. And speaking of negative coverage, he's working on a project that's the diametric ("two meters," or about 79 inches) opposite of Andrew's blip: His words have all the colored pixels turned on at once, or at least they do if you're looking at them on the right kind of monitor.
Me, I'm going to go turn on the radio and write some checks. It seems somehow appropriate to pay for service I'm not getting with money that's not mine. Currency is fiction anyhow; it only works because we all agree to suspend the same disbelief. A photograph at least gives you something you can hang your hat on.
4 comments:
It looks like all the hats have fallen off of that photo, though. Maybe they have gone the way of the polka dots on my blog screen.
The word verification word is uurwh. What does that stand for?
That's really weird. When I posted that picture, there were hats in it. There may be some kind of hat filter in the upload code. Or it might be the file got uploaded too fast, and they blew off. (I hadn't attached them to anything.) I suppose it could be windy at Blogspot too. I've got limited Web access right now, so I can't check the weather. Next time I'll staple the hats to the branches or something.
Each check you wrote erased one hat.
vfhjg
Now I know why I dreamed last night of a hat check girl from Oslo. She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear her in the wind, which was strong enough to blow the fog out of my radio. All the songs were jumbled together with dust and autumn leaves in the windstorm. Lucky for her, she was wearing a red bellboy hat, strapped on tight with a black strap. I'm still wondering what became of my brown hat. That was a good hat, a Stetson snap-brim beaver with a silk band. Maybe there's a lost and found on the Internet.
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