Tag: travel
OPERATIONS: Rebuilding my EDC bag. It’s been sitting in its spot for four years and everything that was in it is either missing or dead. Yesterday morning was so frustrating that it threw me for the entire day, so now I have to catch up on production. About to expire some “pending” things, wipe down the boards and get a clear look at the next four months.
And while I was writing that, the doorbell went, and two bloody great cases of a reprint of ABSOLUTE TRANSMETROPOLITAN Volume 1 arrived. I’m amazed that it’s still being reprinted and still selling.
STATUS: Inbox 94. Finally starting to admit to myself that I need reading glasses. Feeling relaxed about the near future. (Secret of the freelance life: always have a plan B, C, D and E.) It’s cold, the sun is bright, and I need more coffee.
READING: THE ORIGIN OF EMPIRE: ROME FROM THE REPUBLIC TO HADRIAN, David Potter (link)
LISTENING:
THINKING ABOUT:
everything is a burning catastrophe; there’s no time for art; magnetize connection with confession and exposure, right quick!
IMMEDIACY, OR, THE STYLE OF TOO LATE CAPITALISM (UK) (US+)
MISSION CONTROL: I can be contacted via the Cheng Caplan Company. Link in masthead to join my free newsletter. Now: THE DEPARTMENT OF MIDNIGHT audio drama podcast. Forthcoming 2024: DESOLATION JONES: THE BIOHZARD EDITION, FELL: FERAL CITY new printing. 2025: THE STORMWATCH COMPENDIUM, THE AUTHORITY Compact Edition
Comments closedUnerring Pub Sense brings me to the platz at the top end of Karl Johans Gate, where I now have an outside table, cigarettes, and a glass of the local energy muck, Batteri. Cloudy and cool — a lot of people acting like it’s early summer. Folkie-hipster dude in an unfortunate hat is trying to sell a plastic-wrapped magazine to passersby. Quite a few tourists: Germans with insane moustaches, Danes in waterproofs, a shivering Japanese couple, an enormous black man in pink shirt and powder-blue tanktop photographing everything in the square. A phalanx of six women working the square with flowers, crooning ”Romani. Please give. Romani.” They have hard eyes, years past the point where you just resent people for having coins in their pocket. A lone military officer strides past, wearing one of those peculiar caps with the tassel hanging in front. The back of his shaven head prickles with the chill wind now driving into the square.
(originally written May 2008)
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