Black White & Read All Over // 02

Illustration by Loredana Micu

I’m not inclined to personify years – or trust the passage of time, for that matter. Even as a kid I side-eyed the kitchen clock that told me it was 8am because I wanted more evidence than the authority of a collection of gears. Time is a social construct, I say at every opportunity, with or without irony, whipping it out like a handgun from my back pocket*. The sun simply rises and sets, as oblivious to our attention as an It Girl pretends to be. After the shitstorm of 2016, however, I’m grateful for the collective deep breath the new year has given us.

I’m eating a barely ripe banana on the fifth morning of 2017. The cool things I want to pelt at my friends have grown too numerous and so I will pelt them instead, into the void. Do you think Frodo wanted to show his friends the ring but thought that maybe that would be bothering them too much and if they were interested they would have messaged him first, so he threw it into Mount Doom instead? I’m eating the banana slowly to give it more time to ripen.

Imagine answering a frantic knock at your door and there I am, barely holding together a pile of boxes, then screaming and dumping them at your feet. This is what’s happening.

This morning I listened to the BBC’s dramatization of Northanger Abbey during my drive to work. I sat in the parking lot to finish it before going into the office, which I’ve never done before except for Smetana’s The Moldau. Make of that what you will.

Another dramatization I loved recently was Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, but that goes without saying. Dirk Maggs’ productions are always so immersive I spend the first minute of most other dramas thinking, this is not my beautiful house.

They’re also doing reruns of Cabin Pressure, which is laugh-out-loud funny and got me through many a walk to class. Basically, just throw yourself at the feet of the BBC Radio site/app while the pickin’s good.

This morning I also came across the work of Krish Raghav, an Indian artist living in Beijing. There is realness and poetry in his comics, and a dash of sci-fi too. Sometimes other people’s work clogs up my mind, other times it feeds it. This is the latter.

I recently wasted a whole day on Julie Houts‘ Instagram. Her drawings make you laugh in that funny cuz it’s true, half your smile is gums kind of way where you’re grateful not to share an office.

While looking up etymological connections between bald and bold (there are none), I came across this French book written in English about the etymology of English words. Then wasted another day on this. but was it a waste tho  

I also can’t stop watching Uncharted play-throughs but I’m just gonna leave that here at the end because god knows all my friends and family are already more than aware. Here I was thinking I’d be a 3-beret ~auteur~ and then video games had to pop up as a fascinating burgeoning medium when I’ve buckled in on the film train. Video games were not in my Richard Scarry animals in clothes doing jobs book!

My history teacher once told me, you can do anything but you can’t do everything, and I vacillate between resenting him for it and begrudgingly acknowledging his wisdom. In the face of the storytelling/art directing greatness of Uncharted, I’m tending toward the former. I want to do everything, dammit.

*This metaphor immediately disclosing that I know nothing about guns

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