One of my favorite Brits is Nic Roberson, the foreign correspondent who finds himself in war zones plying his trade for CNN. I’m sure he’s heard so many jokes about being the real Nick Danger that he isn’t even polite anymore. Nic’s Wikipedia article includes this wonderful description:
My teenage daughter plays a game with her friends that goes roughly like this–they each have their laptops and start on a webpage with headlines like Yahoo! News. The game is to see who can get from that page to a reference to Hitler in the least clicks. They can’t use a search engine, just mouse clicks. It’s a tasteless premise, but kind of amazing because it never takes very long.
It was drippin’ pitch and made of wood.
And your hands and knees,
Felt cold and wet on the grass beneath,
While outside naked, shiverin’, looking blue,
From the cold sunlight that’s reflected off the moon
And baby cum angels fly around you,
Reminding you that we used to be three and not two,
And that’s how the world began.
And that’s how the world will end.
Rather than being decisive about the end or move of ABAD, I’m going to just say that ABAD is on a hiatus of undetermined length. I have enjoyed doing it, and I’m proud of my own commitment to posting almost every day for almost three and a half years, but my passion for it is touching the low water mark at the moment. There’s no excuse for doing a bad job of it, so I’m going to let it go for now.
So…this isn’t good-bye, just an exceptionally mushy post.
If I have to leave a parting thought here for a while, though, it would be this:
A few years back, I developed a crush on the charming and charismatic frontman of a British band called Art Brut. His lyrics blew me away. They were funny and ironic and seemed to expose every fear a 20-something young man could have–which are not that different from the fears a 40-something old woman has. I reached out to him as a friend on Myspace, that antique social medium that revolutionized my six-degrees-of-separation world. Now there could be one degree. To make a long story short, over the years I have met Eddie, hung out with Eddie, drunk vodka-and-apple-juice cocktails and bad wine with him. I have met [through email] Eddie’s mom in England [she’s exactly 2 months older than I am]. Two of Eddie’s paintings hang in my house. He says that the story I’ve told him of how my preschooler misconstrued the words to one of his songs has become a part of his patter onstage.
Friday was Eddie’s birthday. I emailed him my good wishes. He emailed me back his thanks. My point is–never doubt your heart. You can feel a connection through pictures, music, video….to someone you would never have met in your ‘normal’ life or perhaps will never meet outside of the internet. But the connection is no less real.
So…if you’re reading this–I’m connecting with you. And isn’t that cool?
James May, what am I going to do with almost 500 pictures of you saved? That really is the question.
I’m struggling to take my next step. ABAD evolved from a fiction writing blog to justify my love affair with the ease of clicking and saving anything and everything pictured online. It hasn’t exactly taken on a life of its own–I get about 3 hits a day, I think. I’ve thought about moving the ops over to Tumblr where the ease of access might give me more viewers and thus more reason to continue, but most of these images come from Tumblr in the first place. So that would be pretty pointless.
If you really are out there, and you have an opinion, comment or email your thoughts. I think I’ll take another week to think about it.
Happy Monday from Mr. May–every day is better when you know how to make a proper paper plane.
Two of the HP movies were directed by directors who only directed one of the HP movies….erm, you know what I mean. One was Mike Newell [above, on the set of HP4] and the other was Alphonse Cuaron, who directed HP3, ‘Prisoner of Azkahban.’ I thought they were both brilliant–they are my 2 favorites of the bunch.
As I was telling my friend Lu, the tragedy of ‘Henry V’, and Henry V, is that for all the hand-of-God achievements he made as a warrior and a king, it was all gone to hell by the time Henry VI got done with England and what was left of France. And because I can’t help myself when it comes to pointing out the parallels in certain aspects of our culture, it brings to mind the poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘Ozymandias,’ that recently came into the spotlight when the producers of ‘Breaking Bad’ used it in a trailer. The final lines read–
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
In other words, once you’re dead, it’s unlikely that there will be anyone around to defend your legacy indefinitely, so get over yourself.
But there’s no reason why we can’t enjoy the Shakepeare/Hiddleston legacy for the rest of the year. When ‘The Hollow Crown’ aired in Britain last summer, a kind Tumblrite made these wonderful wallpapers. If you like to plan ahead, they make a great slideshow for your desktop.