not making any feckin' promises now, mind ye... 6.14.09
yessss, me leetle pretteez, eet's me,
that oh-so-not-so-loveable-person-of-dubious character. Any of me familiars out there viewing this know that pic alongside be from some years ago, but we utilizing it here in that sort of "TAHH-DAHHH!" fanfare sense embodied in the gesture photographed on that fine day so many years ago, before the death of the ol' Camdogg, mine own paterfamilias Vincenzo, before the heartaching stupidities of the last couple of years, oh man oh man Oh Man, if we wuz to sit alongside ye, drinking down many bottles of fine vino tinto and expound upon the many misguided misadventures and various misdemeanors he's been a part of since ye last heard from him, oh, you'd be left tearful and muy trieste, tambien.
Oh, but we got to believe better times are comin', no?
Returned recently from visit to Momz and the familia out there in that godforsaken, parched and arid southwestern border-ville known as EPTx, and within days upon return was visited by the Summer Cold from the Farthest Reaches of Hell. Here it nearly two weeks later and yourstruly still producing prodigious amounts of phlegm (just how the hell do ye spell that?) and nasty-boogerishness, felt well enough to invest part of my Saturday afternoon with amigo J. from current workplace visiting local cinema to see Austrian film entitled Revanche. Advocates of Dogma 95 likely to appreciate the flick, and plenty of other things in it to appreciate as well. Such a fucking pleasure to get a break from the usual fare, although mr. hoity-toity movie snob has got to say right here and now that he did also see Pixar's latest release UP while on his desert holiday and enjoyed that experience tremendously.
One of the primary reasons mineowndamnedself felt less than compelled to carry on hereabouts in late spring of ought-seven was that after the previous seven years of the cad-ministration, well, to say one felt impotent is an understatement. They tell me the political climate has changed, and like Fox Mulder, oh babee, I Want To Believe. Goddamn shame mine essential self is that of a cynical realist (and me asks meself- Where is that bright and unblemished idealism you once wore like shining, silver armor?). Shite, enough of that, least for the here & now, izzat okeh wid yu,
ye lovely wee bairns ye?
a wee slice of the real life, next here, then we pause for a bit as we've no intention of rambin' on and on, knowing how short everybuddy's attention span has become these days. Apres le film, J and myself were strolling the streets of downtown Berkeley, it had become a beautiful, sunny afternoon, we'd paused by local deli so jaypea could pick up late luncheon sammich-y goodness to take home and we continued on our stroll discussing the film we'd shared viewing of. J is knowledgeable young katt, helluvagoodmind on them twenty some odd year old, north carolinan bred shoulders o' his. As we meandered the streets and navigated our way northward, he to apartment he shares downtown with parther E (talk about a bright mind!), myself to where bluesubaruII sits awaiting my return, both of us deep in discusssion as we pass by couple of gents on University Ave, and we hear "Hey! Hey Robert!", so, wondering who was proffering the salute, we both turned and there stood a pair of fellows of a particular vintage, oh much closer to that of your not so humble correspondent than that of my movie companion. Goddamn, me said aloud, it be Clayton Call and it was and here, in this neighborhood, the four of us standing next door to the now long shuttered U.C. theatre, across the street from location where Clay and yourstruly were barely-gainfully employed, he downstairs in the camera shop, el chango tonto up the stairs in video, for many years. What marvelous happenstance. Clay introduced us both to his friend Hubert, a grey haired eminence whose locks rivaled the length of mine own in that old picture top of this post, Clay looking like his old self, with bicycle alongside (a very nice Trek, way to ride C!) and in this brief re-association talked superficially about the things one mentions when running across acquaintence of many years standing after many more years of not seeing. One good thing that came from that brief conversation was word from Clay that he'd finally got a website up where one could see the work he's done over many decades of shooting film (and processing said film hisowngoshdarnedself) in many a NorCal musical venue. Ye see, Binky, we always referrred to him as Clayton Call, Famous Rock and Roll Photographer (he be a drummer too, by the way, and over the years has got himself quite the nice collection of gear). Now, before we waste ANY MORE of your precious time, hie thyselves over to ClaytonCallPhoto.com and check it out yourowndarnedself, and do yourstruly a favour and if you know of anyone partial to this kind of thing, please pass along that info, thy karma will be enhanced, we guarantee.
ok, as mentioned in the first line of this post, there be no promises made here, but we hope to get into a more regular thing hereabouts once we've dusted & cleared out the cobwebs and rearranged this and that, 'specially that pesky sidebar, there be plenty of things yer ol' amigo wants to share with ye...