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Friday, December 26, 2003 02:25 Re: Calaveras Hi dear, dear Mr. Perry, I woke up from my afternoon nap thinking very much of you. If I was in AMS now I would call hoping you would answer the phone and engage in a long interesting talk. About your request: I had seen some calaveras here and there (including real-size, oxidized copper ones) but unfortunately not so many since I got your request. I did find a whole skeleton puppet yesterday, not as authentic as other figures I saw before but I chose to get it anyhow. It is made of ceramic, with the bones articulated with thin wires, sort of 30-40 cm in length. It is painted gold, which, in my opinion, is what makes it sort of fake. I asked the shopkeeper for a white one or any other variations but he had none. I like it though, and might want to keep it after our video is done. Let's hope it arrives intact ? it looks VERY breakable, but has been well packed in newspapers and bubble wrap. I will keep looking. We had lunch in town, then an afternoon swim followed by nap, interrupted by sex and the some more sleep, the deep and heavy sort that comes after orgasm. I woke up and reached for a PKDick short story book I brought to the trip but had not touched yet. Still sort of snoozing I opened it where the sticky bookmark was last left and resumed reading a story I had started over six months ago. Both coincidentally and as expected it was called 'The Skull'. The first lines of that page didn't help me remember what that story was about so I went back to the beginning and read the story through to the end. It's very very predictable. A man is hired by the government to kill the (anonymous) founder of a revolutionary church that has radically changed the world. The founder has been dead for over 200 years: the church was created based on only one preaching, followed by his death and his re-apparition a few years later. The hunter is presented with the stolen relics of the founder, in particular his skull. He has to go back in time and kill the founder before he founds his church (the exact plot of 'Terminator'). The hunter carries the skull into the past as the only way of recognizing the Founder. He arrives in 1961 and checks the newspaper archives for the exact date of the Founder's preaching. A barely perceptible note on a paper dated December 1960 mentions the incident he is looking for. On his way out of the archives a passerby stares at him intensely, in awe. You, the reader, realize he is the founder himself (he, the character, doesn't). He re-sets his time machine and arrives at the time and place of his own/the Founder's death. He is waiting for his target to show up and checks the skull he's been carrying: What if he could see this, his own skull, yellow and corroded? Two centuries old. Would he still speak? Would he speak, if he could see it, the grinning, aged skull? What would be there for him to say, to tell the people?... What action would not be futile, when a man could look into his own aged, yellowing skull?The second of the two ... above stands for a few pages. I enjoyed a lot the fact that, even though the end of the story was so completely obvious, reading it brought up that fascination and vertigo characteristic of Dick. love rog link | |
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Monday, December 22, 2003 19:34 well well well Who knew? Mexico, or what I've seen of it, is far more interesting than I could have expected. The San Miguel area, which I can see down below as I write, has one surprise after the other:
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Saturday, December 13, 2003 06:24 Tea and cereal Mornings at the casita work like this: breakfast is had *in* the pool, which is heated and has a thin layer of steam hovering above the surface of the water.  Outside the water the air is still prety chilly and getting out of the pool requires some degree of determination (shrivelled everything). link | |
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02:48 Lee Virgilio came by around noon; immediate fun ('oh, good, you're a hugger' she says a minute after we meet). We went for lunch at Hecho in Mexico and she then took us to the Santuario in Atotonilco. Today the whole San Miguel area is celebrating the Fiesta de la Virgen de Guadalupe. Outside the church we witness the arrival of a small group of Mexicans, marching into the square preceded by three drummers; half of them dressed as 'apaches' with bright colored clothes covered in strips of shiny aluminium ('the disco indians'); the other half is dressed as spanish invaders, we figure, or something similar. We have no idea, really. They all have big rusty knives and dance to the drums following a loose circular choreography that culminates with the two groups having a quick sword fight and then resuming the circular dance once again. There's pretty much no public to witness this except for us, the gringo bystanders, at one point so close to the klanking swords that we decide to run away to guarantee a few extra safety meters (which made an old lady selling souvenirs laugh a lot). A band that had been playing (or rehearsing) in front of the church before the marching indians and spaniards arrived suddenly resumes activity and there's a moment of cacophony before the warriors decide to have a break and disperse, hanging here and there. I don't have my camera with me; I remember having decided to leave it at home and realize it was a bad idea. The band is playing enthusiastically under the shade of a tree and I suddenly realize I do have my new Palm with me – yes – and it has a sound recording application. So here's a little audio souvenir. link | |
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Wednesday, December 10, 2003 16:39 AMS - FRA - MEX  The sea below me now is the sea just off the English coast. I'm on my way, via Frankfurt, to a two-and-a-half week stay in San Miguel de Allende on the Mexican Highlands.  Very long corridor with shifting lights and sounds at the Frankfurt airport I haven't been to Mexico, know close to nothing about the country and never actually considered going there – until Joe got himself this nice house in San Miguel de Allende and started asking me to come for a visit. So here I am: a few hours from landing in Mexico City, without any expectations other than relaxing in good company and looking at beautiful cacti. Anything else will come as a bonus. The timing is odd. I leave in the middle of a complex project with the final deadline on January 11. Gabrielle and Aldje have joined me in creating and producing the many juicy items that go from video graphics to printed matter, stage and interior design, routing, a web site and something involving digital easter eggs in the public space. We're also cooperating with a lot of people of different disciplines. I've been enjoying a lot and complaining almost not! Unlike me though, my body did start complaining and protesting, especially in the last few days when the pressure started mounting and sleep, digestive and other functions became sort or erratic. I guess the trip comes in the right moment after all. I'm in the airplane (now going though a bumpy mass of clouds). Remember: avoid Lufthansa whenever possible: bad minuscule seats, grumpy crew, and a strangely old-fashioned entertainment system. The food at least seems sort of ok – so far. There's still six hours to go. link | |
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