the sourcerer: Rock Paper Scissors, Black Ballpoint Pen.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Rock Paper Scissors, Black Ballpoint Pen.

My passport expired a year ago.

Why have I waited until now to renew it?

Because it's bloody dreary is why.

Home Affairs and their inability to answer the phone. The hither and thither between Customs House and Barrack Street. On foot past Mavericks: wretched middle-aged men in doorways smoking, waiting for a glimpse of the strippers.

Regarding your passport photo: You may no longer smile. And they want EYEBROWS and EARS.

I ended up looking like a victim of violence. Shocked, pale and bruised.

Nothing like me, I tell myself.

But hey. Hopefully I'll have a passport soon.

It could take 3 or 4 or 6 weeks, depending on who you ask. They'll text me, they say.

To rid myself of that feeling you get after being fingerprinted, I popped in at Church.

The entire shop is lined with paper leaves and fern fronds.

Awesomeness.

3 comments:

Chris said...: Zambia???; May 24, 2011 at 3:59 PM
the sourcerer said...: Zambia!
The mighty Zambezi!
Vic Falls!
Livingston!

we'll be shooting there for a few weeks.
Me, who has never gone further than... well, Touws River for work.
baie opgewonde.; May 24, 2011 at 4:30 PM
tanjawilmot said...: classy, that mavericks. classy. hey, you did it. and zambia. wow.; May 24, 2011 at 4:38 PM

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You could tend a garden at night, only at night, pouring dark water onto leaves, and into the earth, like pouring midnight onto midnight. You could hold your soil-stained hands up to the moon. The stars would gleam on the bottom of the shovel. It would smell the same as a daytime garden - it would smell green, violet, red, white. But come back, in daylight. Come back, to see the colours without closing your eyes.
- Sean Michaels. Accompaniment to the song "Immune" by LOW. Said the Gramophone

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to."
Jim Jarmusch (1953- )

You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the bakery shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to go was the Luxembourg gardens where you smelled and saw nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l'Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were sharpened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry too when he painted; but I thought possibly it was only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought that Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) - from A Moveable Feast.