NORMALPICTURES.COM BY LIZ TAPP!

dear diary,
please make michael yonkers take his gypsy curse off my roving corpus callosum and free me from the death grips of lonely fog, jesus jehovah. today was a pleasant one. freelance employment is comfy, snug like a burlap potato sack in the dead of winter. but anyway, i forgot i had to go to graceland cemetary- where many many famous people are resting- and take some photos of some plots. it was a beautiful fall day, i'm listening to outkast and kitty wells ("repossess my heart" wtf??), working on a slurpee in the midday sun, roll up on g-land HQ and the friendly woman at information takes way too long of a time drawing me an artistic highlighted route to the wrong plots. so wrong, so on the opposite side of this matchbox. after an hour and a half of trudging over spirit dirt, i went awol and found it on my own. "it" was a sweet little lady named annie. thanks annie, i needed that.
i have my first radio dj set on beach time- wednesday, nov 18 from 2-4 or somewhere in there on DUBLAB. holy shit right?!
love,
me

TOMORROW!

RAD DUDES

man, this lady is so ON IT!!!
plus- babycakes mind fuggles you.
if you run out of coffee, tea, or soul power- i have recently conditioned myself to pick up thee bootstraps with outkast's pink and blue. on repeat, one hundred times. then timmy thomas's why can't we live together? back in the saddle.

***i want to extend a shout heard round the world to liz tapp, one inimitable special lady wizard friend. i love you liz.

****MUSIC MIKE!?!? via ZC:

BURNHAM BROADCAST

early warning: check out MAKE NO LITTLE PLANS on WTTW, december 17th @ 8pm.

COLOR

see in color, smell in color.
obsessions in color, tech talk in color.

O LUCKY MAN

i cannot believe i slept thru this movie my whole life plus three times before i finally got it right. what an unbelievable masterpiece. white balanced to egg shell blue, perfectly executed in 1973, i cannot imagine a more pristine conception.

"O Lucky Man!", the English comedy directed by Lindsay Anderson and written by his "If . . ." collaborator, David Sherwin, chronicles the adventures of Mick from his humble beginnings as a trainee-salesman at Liverpool's Imperial Coffee Company, through various good fortunes and outrageous disasters, until, at the end, Mick has a kind of Zen illumination. A light bulb goes on inside his head. He smiles broadly: He is, after all, alive.

Mick has hobnobbed with international tycoons, scientists and politicians, and he's been double-crossed by all. He has also been nursed (quite literally) with the milk of human kindness by a vicar's wife. He has been thrown into jail for simply wanting to succeed ("And you failed!" says the furious judge), and he's been rehabiliated ("Did you know you have eyes like Steve McQueen?" asks a kindly warden).

He has been seduced by a rapacious landlady, abandoned by a beautiful London debutante, tortured at anatomic research center (in the name of national security) and beaten up by vagrants he would have helped.

IN THE WORKS