DFW: In Solace and Deep Thought

Post-Script: The tragedy is, I don't expect this film to garner much attention from the critics or Academy, but it's deep, thoughtful and poignant, with a sad but subtle undercurrent of quiet irony.

This is a "quiet movie," a term I coined to refer to those that leave the audience with moments empty of dialog and noise, space within which to think and ponder, like Sophia Coppola's Bill Murray-fueled "Lost in Translation," minus, of course, Bill Murray's comedic personality. Still, there are subtle moments of humor throughout Tour, as evidenced by the occasional titter of laughter from myself or the other three in the audience on the day of my viewing. I can well recommend you go see it for yourself, and if possible also give the late Mr. Wallace a read, too.

Yes, I ran out of room at the bottom of the piece, with only a sentence left, not enough to warrant a scan of a second, much abbreviated, page. So it is with real-life typing (typewritering?), its quaint limitations and challenges presented to the writer reward one with these amusing byproducts of imperfection.

Photo via Fujifilm X10, typecast via Underwood Universal.

Good Luck Strikes Every Seven Years

Post-Script: I've never been the kind to make a vacation or holiday strenuous; one shouldn't need to take time off afterwards to recuperate! We also hope we've struck a fine balance between over-planning and spontaneity.

I am truly fortunate to have a good job that offers these kinds of benefits. I've been continuously employed since age 17, so a bit of time off feels wonderful.

Photo via Lumix G5; typecast via Underwood Universal.

Readin', Writin' and Relaxin'

Post-Script: I didn't get around to typing this up and posting it until today, so it's a bit out of date. Last night I spent several hours in my new backyard seating around, stoking bits of scrap wood into the new chimenia, enjoying the cool evening.

This morning the city inspector came around and gave us his blessing. Soon after, we moved in the patio furniture and it's looking more like home. There's a bit more decorating and furnishing yet to do, which might take some time to finish, in order to spread out the cost over a longer time period.

Later, I "went to town" with the miter saw and a barrel of scrap finish-grade wood strips, a gift from our former neighbor who was a handyman that did cabinetry work, turning what had been clutter in the storage shed into more fuel for the chimenia.

Typing with this old Underwood was a real joy, I had forgotten how nice the action feels, and it has a classic font. Photos via Lumix G5.

Bonus Images:

Preparing For Autumn

Post-Script: Like many areas on inland North America, winters can be cold and summers hot. And thus spring and fall are more ideal, climate-wise. Except spring in the west can be horrendous for wind storms. And so we look forward to autumn, not only for the cooler weather and falling leaves, but the smell of fire places and the roasting of green chiles, a tradition here in New Mexico that dates back for centuries. Everyone has their favorite place to buy and have roasted their burlap sack of spicy peppers, and also their favorite growing area of the state. In southern New Mexico, the agricultural community of Hatch is renown for their green chiles, while the more temperate climate of northern New Mexico produces some outstanding red chiles. The difference in color is due to whether the pods are picked before or after ripening.

My Dad was born near the end of WW1, and could remember as a young boy that green chile was not a common item to be found in the markets of Albuquerque back in the 1920s, due to transportation and labor issues making the peppers difficult to harvest and transport while yet green. It was more common to dry the pods on the metal rooftops of sheds in the hot sun, until they were a rich red palette.

So, what's my favorite way to have chile? I take it "Christmas" style, which around these parts means slathering the food with both red and green sauce. Yum.

Photo via Lumix G5, typecast via Olympia SM9.

But at Least One Can Always Dream

Post-Script: My recently revived fascination with fountain pens reminds me once again of the contrast between interest in objects still being manufactured anew (like pens) versus those now long since obsolete (like typewriters). With the former, collecting means choosing between both old and new, while with the latter there's only a finite number of artifacts available from which to choose from, in various states of decay.

Photo via Lumix G5; typecast via Olympus SM9.