book one redone - Coldbacon
book one redone - Coldbacon book one redone - Coldbacon
y Warner Bros.] Oh my god! What do you say when the Pope asks you how you liked the sermon? And you can’t pretend to speak another language either, cause he’ll damn well know it. It seemed to me I had two main options. “Yeah, your work is pretty good” or “oh yes, I’ve been your biggest fan for—at least two hours.” I chose “stand there like an idiot for a few seconds” until finally, my mouth just said, “yes.” And everyone seemed satisfied, or relieved, sort of like when someone asks a baseball player if he’s already thinking about the next series, and then he says he’s just going to “take it one game at a time”—collective sigh of relief across T.V. viewing audience. Or maybe it’s “in God’s hands now.” Hey, can my day at work tomorrow be in God’s hands? That would really take a load off. Listen, we’re going to pay you five million dollars a year, and all you have to do is learn these two mind numbing phrases. And coaches— they’re even worse. They not only say the shit, but then, before you can even say anything, they come out with, “Well, they may be clichés, but there’s a reason for it.” Dammit. Hieronymo’s foiled againe—by the skipper. So now let us consider a web site put out by a wine tasting social club called the Wine Boobs. Essentially they would get together in a group of about five or six people each bringing a bottle of wine in a brown paper bag so as to conceal its identity. They would then taste the wines and reverse transcribe their evening as if into a screenplay, which you could then read. In the early days, they were youthful and optimistic, poor and clever, and living in Philadelphia. They got downright excited to rediscover the glory of Gewürztraminer [WB #9] and grieved for the overlooked complexities of a twenty-year-old Barbaresco [WB #15]. Their fun and silliness knew no limits. Parmigiano was grated so vigorously so as to be “shrapnel” hitting people in the face, and the qualities of a wine were more than once compared to those of the opposite sex, and vice versa. Now for the most part, the Boobs had never flirted with pictures or sounds, instead using only the Roman alphabet (God’s alphabet) to convey their wisdom and humor. In fact, they even once described the music their protagonists heard during the tasting, but of course, no real sound. Yet this time, without warning, they used a picture. I mean, they 76
eally used a picture. And I thought to myself, “Why the hell not? Just why the hell not?” And would it have been the same had they just written [screen fills up with giant picture of blue sun—and it’s magnificent]? But in this final essay [WB #23], the first after a very long hiatus, one senses the post-power chord disenchantment of a rock band who’ve accidentally peaked, and it’s far too soon. And now we’ve finally had the fifty-year-old Bordeaux and the thirty year old Burgundy and the Sauternes we were saving for some other narrative. It’s over, and nothing is changed. The meal is ended, she is bored and tired. Not even another cigarette can help. Should we try to regain that sense of anticipation we had in the beginning, when we only dreamed of having the great wine? Can we ever again be satisfied with twelve-dollar Gewürz because “it has so much going on”? And worst of all, as hinted at by the image of “the big blue sun,” could there be something more important than our wines? Than ourselves? Our bitches? Where do we go from here? Where go? Where? Wallala leialala. Dalran. Damyata. Syrah? 77
- Page 26 and 27: http://search.aol.com/dirsearch.que
- Page 28 and 29: ...or perhaps find a deal on... htt
- Page 30 and 31: Milk and Honey You’ve heard it a
- Page 32 and 33: original.html List of people astute
- Page 34: sea foam head hunter I am a race ca
- Page 37 and 38: I’ve always dreamed of a vampire
- Page 39 and 40: news/headlines.html 6/5/05 U.S. War
- Page 42 and 43: writing/stormdrain.html The followi
- Page 44 and 45: 9/19/02 Tropical Storm Isidore Head
- Page 46 and 47: Because of email, the quality of my
- Page 48: http://search.dogpile.com/texis/sea
- Page 51: http://aolsearch.aol.com/dirsearch.
- Page 54 and 55: unless he was just kidding when he
- Page 56 and 57: From: Dave Eggers To: Me Date: Sun,
- Page 58 and 59: Blend: To mix two or more ingredien
- Page 61 and 62: germanwines.html “Big reds,” I
- Page 63 and 64: Hotmail Daemon: 1 person wants to e
- Page 65 and 66: Poison Control “Hello, you have r
- Page 67 and 68: ColdBacon: no ColdBacon: doesn’t
- Page 69: That’s the moment you’ll find G
- Page 73 and 74: ugs.html Remember when you were a k
- Page 75: theendofanera.html You may have not
- Page 80 and 81: monitors.html From a Review of Moni
- Page 82 and 83: that looked just like—oh my—wai
- Page 84 and 85: glib \ ‘glib \ adj glib-ber; glib
- Page 86 and 87: movies/personalvelocity.html Person
- Page 88 and 89: movies/wesanderson.html Interview w
- Page 90 and 91: WA: Umm. CB: Are you saying umm or
- Page 92 and 93: movies/mysticmasseur.html Mystic Ma
- Page 94 and 95: movies/blackhawkdown.html Blackhawk
- Page 96 and 97: eal and credible as—nothing, or a
- Page 98 and 99: October 30, 2003 My therapist says
- Page 100 and 101: Someone has left your mailing list!
- Page 102 and 103: If No, then it’s because 1. Meeti
- Page 104 and 105: From: Sarita Date: Thursday, July 1
- Page 106 and 107: hello there fellow webmaster! I enj
- Page 108 and 109: From: Stump7350@aol.com Date: Wedne
- Page 110 and 111: 5/27/01 ‘Pearl Harbor’ misses r
- Page 112 and 113: Scarface when they visit the palati
- Page 114 and 115: From: Al Shehorn To: Cold Bacon Van
- Page 116 and 117: 6/23/60 Italian Film Crew Distracte
- Page 118 and 119: sort of blueish-gray color.” Whet
- Page 120 and 121: movies/openlettertocriterion.html D
- Page 122 and 123: One of Kubrick’s themes (yes, onl
- Page 124 and 125: 124
eally used a picture. And I thought to myself, “Why the hell not? Just<br />
why the hell not?” And would it have been the same had they just written<br />
[screen fills up with giant picture of blue sun—and it’s magnificent]?<br />
But in this final essay [WB #23], the first after a very long hiatus, <strong>one</strong><br />
senses the post-power chord disenchantment of a rock band who’ve<br />
accidentally peaked, and it’s far too soon. And now we’ve finally had the<br />
fifty-year-old Bordeaux and the thirty year old Burgundy and the<br />
Sauternes we were saving for some other narrative. It’s over, and nothing<br />
is changed. The meal is ended, she is bored and tired. Not even another<br />
cigarette can help. Should we try to regain that sense of anticipation we<br />
had in the beginning, when we only dreamed of having the great wine?<br />
Can we ever again be satisfied with twelve-dollar Gewürz because “it has<br />
so much going on”? And worst of all, as hinted at by the image of “the big<br />
blue sun,” could there be something more important than our wines? Than<br />
ourselves? Our bitches? Where do we go from here? Where go? Where?<br />
Wallala leialala. Dalran. Damyata. Syrah?<br />
77
Change language