Bonjour Jean

by Ryland Walker Knight

I.


—colored adoration

II.


—contrast solitude

III.

—burning, bled

IV.



—turning, tournage

Another part of me.

by Ryland Walker Knight

Thanks, Michael, for the joy you left behind. Sorry you had it so rough otherwise. I guess they're right: gaiety is not happiness, nor is joy a measure of simple smiles. It's only been a few days, of course, but this is just another reason I wish I was in Brooklyn tonight. I'm sure every bar is popping, dancing, singing, crying, celebrating. I'm sure everybody partaking feels thrilled to be alive. Me? I watched the NBA Draft, tweeted a bit about it, and now plan on some ice cream before bed. Remember the time, people, when this reaction was standard. I wish I was dancing with my friends.

UPDATE: Read my friend Odie's remembrance over at Big Media Vandalism.

Province of the wretched.

by Ryland Walker Knight

This took too long. But, better late than never. Take a look at how I see In The Realm of The Senses and Intentions of Murder over at The Auteurs. Part One is called "Lockdown". Look for Part Two, called "Shuttered", tomorrow (the link will work then). Each post has the same introductory remarks, including the line: "both films portrait an abject sexuality based primarily in violence and crudity—lust is battery here." You guessed it: it's been a weird couple of months. As can be expected given all my dirtywhirl of messiness, I've no use for non stop rape parables. Thus, this bit of violence on my part.

—Many thanks to my boy, D-Kaz, for, among everything else, the Photoshop help. Looking forward to one last Steinhof Monday before a summer of pot roast and, I'm guessing (hoping?), manual labor outside the city.

Convergence for our prior spied century (6/21/09)

by Ryland Walker Knight

—for Danny

Placeholder: Ladders can lead down; we spiral up.

by Ryland Walker Knight

[image via]