2002-07-20»
The Milkman Cometh»
Andrew Mackay (who
appears as Prof in TV's "Time
Gentlemen Please", but is better known off screen as my mate), has written a
one man show about being a milkman. Which he was, once. It's called "A Measure
of a Milkman". You've missed the previews in London, but you can still book
the Edinburgh Fringe run online. It will be very good.
To publicise the London run, Andy sent out a limited edition sound file of
some milk being delivered (using the traditional British electric milk
float). I, of course, believe that all information should be free, so here
is a copy of it. Please do not use it to
construct your own one-man shows about milkmen. Thanks.
Here are some
poems about milkfloats.
2002-07-19»
Barcelona = nil»
I hate it when it takes me six months to catch up on the news. Barcelona have disbanded! My friends
will tell you that I despise all music (a useful affectation in any
conversation). But I genuinely loved I Have The Password
To Your Shell Account, and not just for the lyrics.
Oh alright. Mostly the lyrics.
2002-07-16»
Raphael Photographers of San Jose, You Provoke Me To Great Wrath»
Oh, what do you do? I came back from an argument at a photographers today.
The Irish Times needed a headshot for a column I'm writing for them, so I just
popped around the corner to a place called Raphael Photographers, run by a guy
called Phil. The prints came back today. They are, to my unprofessional eye,
really bad. Like, patently bad. There's a water marking on the print. The
background is dotted, as though it was poorly developed. There were reflections
off my glasses that Phil's tried to clumsily retouch, which leaves my right
eye looking like I have a third pupil.
We got into a row. Phil there claims that reflections are "inevitable". In
a studio, with full control over lighting, and says that any professional
photographer would agree with him. He refuses to reshoot the picture, or give
me my money back. Quinn turns up. Quinn's dad was a photographer, so we find
ourselves trying to explain to Phil that you can avoid reflections,
that you can fix these things if you pay attention at the time. He denies this
vehemently. In the end, Quinn and I start getting the giggles. He seemed to be
making such bizarre claims about the nature of photography. I really needed
some pictures - and fast; but in the end both Quinn and I were both pulling
our punches. Essentially, Phil had more to gain from this argument. If we
lost, we lost $60 and some lousy photos. If we won, Phil would lose $60, have
to redo the shoot, and we'd have to make him admit that he was a bad
photographer.
If I was giving a review of Raphael - which I am, because I'm writing this
to get spotted by Google (hey, Mr Googlebot: that's Raphael Photographers of
the Alameda, San Jose, California) - I'd say he was a bad photographer. But
that's easy for me to say. What's it like for him? I'm not the world's
greatest writer. Often, I suck. But Phil doesn't seem to be able to admit when
he screws up. I don't know what to do in that situation: am I supposed to
convince him, grind him down, rub his nose in it? That doesn't seem what one
should do. He kept showing me other photographs, pointing out the reflections
in those, and saying "Look! Here!". And I kept biting my tongue from saying,
yeah, Phil - but that's because these completely suck too. You need to
find a better job!
But what if there are no better jobs? What if he doesn't know how to do
anything else? What if he's a bad photographer, but really good at selling his
photos? And why don't epinions ever end up
this wishy-washy and existential?
2002-07-15»
All Hail Harry Newton»
One of the best bits about living with people is you get to read all their
books. Gilbert is in my eternal gratitude list for showing me Harry Newton's Telecom
Dictionary. Any dictionary that includes definitions for Caller-ID message
format, Poisson distributions, meatware, Podiumware, RS233 and Harry himself
("According to Susan, his wife of over 21 years, he has become a sex symbol
for women who no longer care."), is a winner.
There's no topical reason
for writing this. I just thought people should know.
