Dear Reader, this past month has been a most peculiar one…
wibble (v.) 1871, from wibble-wobble (1847), a colloquial reduplication of wobble (v.).
*I don’t think it’s just me, Clicky… Others have been feeling peculiartoo…*
wobble (v.) 1650s, wabble, probably from Low German wabbeln “to wobble;” cognate with Old Norse vafla “hover about, totter,” related to vafra “move unsteadily,” from Proto-Germanic *wab- “to move back and forth,” perhaps from PIE *webh- “to weave” (see waver). Form with -o- is from 1851. Related: Wobbled; wobbling. The noun is attested from 1690s.
*Interesting! Tell me, did you look at the possible… probably root of the word ‘wobble‘, Clicky?
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
[Stevie Smith]
*I posted a comment about ‘the hand wavers’ yesterday at The Slog …/looks perplexed… Oh it still doesn’t seem to have appeared…*
*Bugger! … /sad face… How disappointing, Clicky… I pointed out how smokers are right here in front everyone’s faces, but people are conditioned to wave both us and our grievances away… It was awfully clever in a “Can you see what it is yet?” sort of way… I mean, it’s not white, heterosexuals of sound mind who are bearing the brunt of the bans… Although we, too, are affected, rich and poor…*
*Mind you,JaxtheFirstmade an very interesting observation last night., Clicky.. how the Anti Smoking hand-wavers have distanced themselves with their hatred and intolerance… This ‘War on Tobacco’ they’ve been waging for these past 400 years… /clucks dismissively… Are they waving-waving or waving-drowning?*
warble (v.) late 14c., from Old North French werbler “to sing with trills and quavers” (Old French guerbloiier), from Frankish *werbilon (cognate with Old High German wirbil “whirlwind,” German Wirbel “whirl, whirlpool, tuning peg, vertebra,” Middle Dutch wervelen “to turn, whirl”); see whirl (v.). Related: Warbled; warbling. The noun is recorded from late 14c.
laud (v.)”praise highly, sing the praises of,” late 14c., from Old French lauder “to praise, extol,” from Latin laudare “to praise, commend, honor, extol, eulogize,” from laus (genitive laudis) “praise, fame, glory.” Probably from an echoic PIE root *leu- and cognate with Old English leoð “song, poem, hymn,” from Proto-Germanic *leuthan (source also of Old Norse ljoð “strophe,” German Lied “song,” Gothic liuþon “to praise”). Related: Lauded; lauding.
nose (v.)”perceive the smell of,” 1570s; “pry, search,” 1640s, from nose (n.). Related: Nosed; nosing.
watt (n.) unit of electrical power, 1882, in honor of James Watt (1736-1819), Scottish engineer and inventor. The surname is from an old pet form of Walter and also is in Watson.
Walter masc. proper name, from Old North French Waltier (Old French Gualtier, Modern French Gautier), of Germanic origin and cognate with Old High German Walthari, Walthere, literally “ruler of the army,” from waltan “to rule” (see wield) + hari “host, army” (see harry). Walter Mitty (1939) is from title character in “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” by U.S. short story writer James Thurber (1894-1961).
*******
Sunday evening and all was quiet in the Library: Thoughtful Man was out working the mean streets of Southend; Things 1 & 2 were busy online making war and making friends, and our living, breathing hot water bottle was diligently practicing for any future, upcoming Sleep event at the Olympics. Poppy lay curled, molded around my backside, under my thick woolen cardie, snoozing and warming the small of my back. I’ve often mused how, dooshounds are more feline than canine. Well, ours is anyway.
Chores completed for the day (at least until the return of a weary Thoughtful Man), I was luxuriating in space and time, skipping through universes that I access via my book, listening to pictures and feeling out the sharp edge of words in conversations.
I wasn’t alone: Clicky was with me, of course, accompanied by the dynamic duo, Cath Fine and her significant other Nick O’Teen. All remained steadfastly to hand as I flitted and floated, fleetly fleed and flied, feeling roam free.
The telephone rang, causing Poppy to poke a curious nose out from under the cardigan she was using as a tent.
“Alright darling?” Thoughtful Man voice piped through, “I’ve just dropped off in Laindon and thought I’d come home now.”
I wasn’t disappointed: Laindon is a good fare. “Okay sweetie. We’ll have dinner when you get back.”
“Yeah, I won’t be long. Listen,” he paused, ” I’ve had an idea for a smoker you can write your next post about.”
I was momentarily nonplussed; Thoughtful Man doesn’t usually read my wibblings. “What? Who?”
“Slush,” he said. Now I was really confused and repeated the name back to him.
“No, Slash. The guitarist from Guns N’ Roses,” he replied.
I thought for a moment and tried to picture the personage in my mind. “Curly black hair, wears sunglasses and top hat?”
“That’s the one,” Thoughtful Man confirmed. “He smokes on stage, sticks his cigarette in end of his guitar. There’s bound to be lots of photos of him smoking.”
I took a drag of Nick and a slurp of Cath, and briefly pondered his suggestion. Clicky, always quick off the mark, got busy. “But you don’t like Guns n Roses,” I answered. Well, he doesn’t.
“No, but I think you should do one on somebody that’s not dead. Look we’ll talk about it when I get home. Do you fancy pizza?”
Pizza! I crossed ‘washing up’ off my mental list of potential future chores, happily agreed with his suggestion, and rang off after an embarrassing number of ‘byes’ that’s really more associated with first flush of romance rather than 26 years into a stretch.
“Pizza?” came the mournful voice of Thing 1 from the darkened nook of the Library, “Can’t we have Chinese?”
*******
Dear Reader, I’m not gonna do Slash. He gave up smoking in 2009 after his mum died. He fails the ‘Bravery’ criteria. But I do like the idea of profiling somebody alive… Thoughtful Man, a firm anti-monarchist, will probably hate me for this butt…
Okay, okay, I freely admit, he’s no Barry Sheene, but he is alive and still smoking, and as for the fifth criteria, well, he did cause an interesting stink…
*I dunno, Clicky, it’s a bit weak… /bites nail… And Thoughtful Man really doesn’t like royalty… /spits… It could all hinge on the Song… What do you reckon?*
A shadow hovered about me. I slide the headphones off my ears and attempted to look up.
“What’s up Kitty?” I asked, still dragging my eyes away from my PC screen. I’d been talking to Hugo, reading and listening to music.
“So, the fish was just in the sink, already broken, when you went in to brush your teeth?” I asked a pensive looking Kitten. “Okay, then, that is weird. Have you picked up all the pieces and put them aside? Dad might be able to fix it.”
He looked relieved. “Yeah. I told you, it was weird. You like weird stuff.” Kit Kat gave me a fancy bow and a wave…
*A bit more Rimmer, Clicky… /thinks… Like he was doing me a favour… How the fuck do you describe that? Thanks anyway… /pats snout…*
“Goodnight, mother dearest.”
“Do I have to go to bed?” Loopy called over, without breaking from his battle with a hoard of pixelated whatevers.
“No, you can stay up with me. You’re on holiday this week, remember?” I told him.
“Cool.”
Kit Kat and I synchronised eye rolls – Loopy would sit in that chair forever, if we let him. I kissed the top of Kitten’s head ‘goodnight’, and he left for bed.
*******
FRIDAY 28th October 2016 – between about 1600h to 1611h
Conversation between Roo B Doo and son Kitty Doo about where fought/thought/fault/fort/forte lies…
“But technically, it wasn’t me. It was gravity. I just gave it a little nudge.”
*******
THURSDAY – AFTERNOON
Thoughtful Man was sitting at his computer and I at mine. All was peaceful in the Library as I started to read the latest post from my good friend, Cade. I’d only got to the bit about inserting the lie, when I remembered…
*Yes, Clicky, that clown… Don’t do that! You’ll make me lose my concentration…*
“Shit! I forgot to tell you,” I told Thoughtful Man. I rushed upstairs to see Kit Kat. He was doing whatever teenage boys do in their bedrooms. I always knock… well you never know…
*Clicky, stop trying to distract me… Writing…*
“Where’s that fish you broke? Come show it to Dad. He might be able to fix it.”
Kitten was lounging in his Captain’s chair and got up begrudgingly, as teenage boys are want to do. He collected the fish pieces from the bathroom, handed them over and then followed me back downstairs, with a gracelessness that only 15 year old boys can truly muster.
“This fish…” I turned the body of the fish over in my hands and stopped. “Oh, it says made in Mexico. Did we buy this in Grenada or Phoenix? I thought it was Grenada.” I passed the broken pieces across to Thoughtful Man.
“Arizona,” he replied, attempting to fit them together. Part of the head had smashed off and a fin. He inserted the few straggler shards and held it up for inspection. “Traveled a long way, this fish to come live with us. Yeah, I’ll glue that back together. How did it happen?”
I felt Kit Kat stiffen from across the room, where he was taking a suspiciously long pause in the doorway…
*He wasn’t smoking! Clicky, please, go do something else…*
“Oh it’s really weird,” I explained to Thoughtful Man. “The other night when Kit Kat went to brush he teeth, he found it, broken in the sink. An earthquake is a more likely than it spontaneously leap of faith, wouldn’t you say, Kitty?”
I turned to my son, inviting him to give his opinion on the flying/jumping/shaking fish phenomenon he’d tried to palm me off with the other night.
Kitten looked at me before answering. “It was really weird,” the Boy That Breaks Things offered his father with a shrug and knowing smile.
*******
THURSDAY – AFTER MIDNIGHT
Kit Kat slouched into the Library and sat in Thoughtful Man’s chair.
“Mum, do you want anything from the kitchen?” he asked me. He’s always been thoughtful like that, especially if he wants something in return. Usually food.
“No thanks. Listen, come over here.” I beckoned him over to show him the image I’d created. “I’m writing a LoL post for you, ‘cos I wrote Loobie one, the other day,” I said brightly.
He sat on the arm of my big chair and gave a nod. “S’okay. You writing a post for me? Am I in it?”
“Will you read it?” I asked him.
“I don’t like reading,” he countered. He can be brutally honest went he wants to be.
“Then that’s your punishment for breaking my fish.” I pushed him off my armrest and he returned to his father’s seat. “I’ll tell you what, though, you provide me with three things, any three random things, and I’ll include them in it.”
“Accidentally broke your fish, which is actually my fish because you gave it to me for my toothbrush.” Kit Kat sighed, resigned to playing along to make me happy. He thought for a bit. “It’s about a cheaply made fish that I accidentally broke, so… The first thing is a really expensive fish…”
*******
Friday 28th October – Middayish, an hour after getting up
Opens unsolicited email from MJM, friend from the Blue and Y’Ello Universes.
Ninth email, from Frank, friend from the Red Universe, in an electronic missive chain discussing… well, that’s between him and me but it involves some of characters of the MEROVEE crew… They’re a fun crowd…
Kit Kat’s ‘I-really-couldn’t-care-less’ concentration was suddenly broken by the entrance of a mad dooshund, wrestling with a limpish sock from side to side. It had been quietly lying in the dirty laundry pile.
“Poppy! Let that go, let that go,” Loopy cried, springing up from his chair and attempted to gently prise the white material from the jaws of certain shaken death. “Come on, Poppy, give it to me.”
“And a sock!” Kit Kat exclaimed. “Expensive fish, Benjamin Franklin and a sock,” he finished with a flurry that matched jerky movements of the reluctantly dancing sock…
*Oh for gawd’s sake… /looks skywards…*
“Yes. This sock,” Loopy stated, giving me the sopping wet item before returning to his chair with our darling Popstar for a licky cuddle.
“Okay,” I said, putting the sock down and grabbing my headphones. “Anything else?”
Kitten looked at me thoughtfully. “Yeah, can you remind dad that my game comes out tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’m sure he already knows,” I said. “You’ve been heralding its arrival every bloody day since your birthday.”
*Ha! He saves his money and look at the fuck off size book it comes with, Clicky… /sighs at the irony… He’s never gonna read all that… /looks around… What’s left to do?*
*A Song? Nah, I don’t think it’s finished yet… Hey! Where are you going? Don’t piss off now… /huffs… Fuck it… /lights up, sits back, smokes…*
I was between the Library and the room containing the fridge and cooker when Loopy called out.
“Yes, but first I’m turning on some lights and then I’m going upstairs to pee. Why?” I said, stopping in the doorway and clicking on the overhead light.
Loops in naked, teenage hairiness (except for pants – wear knot animals 😉 ), glided round into view. He was sitting in his Captain’s gaming chair, whilst Poppy lay sleeping along the length of his long, lanky legs. He languidly caressed her back, to which she responded with low, contented snores.
“Can I have a sandwich?” he asked with the innocence of 21st century Oliver Twist.
Thoughtful Man was out; however, earlier we’d decided secretly between the two of us – after a short but satisfying cuddle, before he got into the bath I’d thoughtfully drawn him – that he’d bring KFC home, when he finished work. I’d licked my lips at his whispered suggestion, and told him “Yes please.”
“Dad will probably bring something home with him later,” I told Loopy, knowing exactly how much food my children can put away over the course of a day. “What kind of sandwich?”
Loops eyed me coolly, his hand lingering over Poppy’s soft, velvety ears. “Pigeon.”
“I’m fresh out of pigeon,” I replied with a sagacious squint. “You can have ham.”
*******
*Clicky! Where’s that video clip Loops showed me… /lifts up cushions… You know, the funniest pigeon video I said he could use as the filling…*
*/peers behind curtains… Oh, I don’t know, it’s gotta be hear sumwear…*
*******
Dear Reader, it’s been a lovely Sunday. No cooking, minimal ironing (half-term next week. Yay!). Clicky and I have had such fun today, frolicking around the universes. Perhaps we’ve seen you there 😉
Regardless, we hope you’ve also had a good day. Have a Song…
*Thank you, Clicky… /pats snout… Now pass me a rollie…*
*Past, Clicky. I heard it back in my youthful daze… /:O… Released on 7th September? That’s Thoughtful Man’s birthday! I didn’t know that fact when the Song popped into my head… /thinks… sew this means that information about my past was in my future… /grins sheepishly… I can quite see why you get confused…*
*Whoa! Did you see that?!*
*Where?*
*Ha! An English Garden variety? No I… /squint… knot-eyes the Wooley connection to my PPE… Um, it’s knit and… /mind stutter… wear, ware, where?*
*/sighs… Yes, the original Song, for me anyway, Clicky… For this synchronicity…/thinks… doo–ray–me–far–sew–la–T…qui… malarky. That’s the closest word I can think of to describe it…*
*Indeed… Hey! Today I became the 137th follower of a chap on Twitter… he’s a geodeticamong other things… Could be useful… I just had to look that up… Look, I took a selfie…*
*He’s visited the LoLbefore, Clicky… I don’t know why I didn’t follow him on the Y’elloRiver before…*
*Well, to be fair, that LoL post was inspired my crazy dooshund, rather than a wolf…*
*That’s a bit binary, isn’t it Clicky? What about a grey wolf? Still, Princess Ploppy certainly is well fed… Ah! …/slaps forehead… That’s why the Song popped into my head! I remember… first I was in theBlueUniverse… then paid avisitto the, er,Red…*
*Well, you know that, and I know that, Clicky… /lights umpteenth rollie… Methinks this post is a tad too big… /blows smoke… Shall we leave Dear Reader to it and have a Song?*
*There you are! /taps foot… I got back really quickly. Where have you been, Clicky?
*RedFranks? I left you at BlueFranks… Clicky, dinner is about to arrive and Thoughtful Man and I have ‘Suicide Squad’ to watch… I wanted to write this post before he got home from work… /wrings hands… *
*Chocolate? You think you can get round me with… chocolate? /takes both… Delicious… Damn, did you hear that?*
*That’s Thoughtful Man pulling up now… Okay, Clicky, laters…*
*Oh yeah, fuck… the Debate… That was fucking excellent…*
*Hey! Have you been wearing my Rubedo mask again, Clicky? I was asleep 49 minutes ago… I know, I still have the taste in my mouth… /lights another… Better…*
*Oh yeah, owls… or is that ‘owls?*
*Alright, let me get myself together, Clicky… /yawns… I think I’ll have another coffee… /stop hand sign… It’s okay, darling, I’ll do it…*
*******
Owls, Dear Reader. MEROVEEFrank mentioned owls in his last (sew above)…
… And puzzles and that’s exactly what PetesQuiz wrote about putting ‘the pieces of the jigsaw together’ in the ‘sew below’ at BlueFrank’s follow up to his ‘Defining the Future’ earlier on today…
*I know! How did he know I was going to use from TBBT in this post?!*
Dear Reader, we have a number of owls at the LoL…
OWL One
None of our owls have names. This fella came from the Packer side of the family. It used to be a table lamp; I’m not sure if Grandad bought it or was given it by German POWs in WW2 – he was Captain of a camp in Egypt and was given lots of carvings by prisoners who appreciated his fair and even-handed treatment. But it hasn’t cast light in a long time…
OWL 2 (and friend)
I don’t know where these guys came from, but they look down on me in the Library every day.
OWLS 3
I remember exactly when these fellas arrived. It was the day the boys broke up from school for Christmas. Thoughtful Man and I were waiting in the playground to collect them. Thoughtful Man had gone off with Kit Kat (who was always first out) for a chat with one of the other dads. I was standing aside, stamping my feet and blow out pretend smoke with my frozen, crystalised breath.
Suddenly I spotted Loops’, smiling from ear to ear, rushing toward me. He looked so excited. Then I saw his puffing, red face teacher, plodding along on behind. She was laden with… OMG, what the fuck was she carrying and why is she mouthing ‘I’m so sorry’ in my direction?!
“Mummy! I got you a Christmas present!” Loopy exclaimed, wrapping his little arms around my waist. “Owls!”
*******
*Brilliant! Finished it at last, Clicky… /yawn… I think I’ll slip off to bed for a recharge… Give Dear Reader a Song, please…*
From the Old Lady of Threadneedle street – the UK has a brand new fiver. It’s still blue 😉 Thoughtful Man got one last night whilst out working, and showed it to me this morning. It’s shiny and can survive a battering…
*What? …/innocent face*
Mrs Reign one side, smoker Winnie on t’other… see-through window…
*Saturn 5… I guess Big Ben does look a bit like a rocket, Clicky…*
*Indeed they are, Clicky. But ‘bow‘ is one of those homo-thingies – you’re mixing up the meaning and pronunciation…*
*Okkaay… /puffs out cheeks …shall I get on with it, Clicky?*
*Thank you. A bit creepy, but thank you.*
*******
In the summer of 2012, I read a book called ‘The Fourth Turning‘ and it changed the way I looked at, not only history, but the current state of world affairs.
It was published in 1997 and, in it, a couple of Yanks postulate that human history is a series of cycles, roughly lasting 80 – 100 years. Each cycle (saeculum) can be broken up into four distinct seasons (Turnings): Spring (High), Summer (Awakening), Autumn (Unraveling) and Winter (Crisis), and the cycle is powered along by four generational archetypes moving through the life stages of childhood, young adulthood, mid-life and elderhood.
The authors had looked back at Anglo-American history and had identified 7 cycles:
Late Medieval (1435 – 1487)
Reformation (1487 – 1594)
New World (1594 – 1704)
Revolutionary (1704 – 1794)
Civil War (1794 – 1865)
Great Power (1865 – 1946)
Millennial (1946 – 2026?)
1997, the time of publishing, fell within the Autumn (Unraveling) season of the Millennial Cycle. The next turning would be the fourth (Winter/Crisis) of the saeculum and the authors predicted:
Sometime around the year 2005, perhaps a few years before or after, America will enter the Fourth Turning.
By the time I read the book in 2012, the Fourth Turning was already underway.
A Crisis year begins with a catalyst – a startling event (or sequence of events) that produces a sudden shift in mood.
Two incidents, either side of 2005, could be considered catalysts – the 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Centre…
and the Financial Crash in 2008…
*/squints… Clicky, is there a reason you’re using anti-tobacco imagery to illustrate my points?*
CLICKY: 2007 smoking ban..?
*Ah… /nods sagely …and it also reminds me to mention the Fourth Turning’s ‘Gray Champion‘*
Anyhoo, back to the book. It’s very US-centric but that, I suppose, was it’s target audience. However, yesterday I was interested to read mention of it in regards to Brexit at The Burning Platform, via Zero Hedge.
And the stormy weather featured in Blue Universe Frank’s Brexit post today…
And he specifically mentions the Spanish Armada – The Armada Crisis is the Fourth Turning (Crisis) season of the Reformation saeculum:
This won’t have been the first time Britain has been saved by a storm. On the 4th of August 1588, the Spanish Armada, which was about to land an army on England’s south coast, began to experience an adverse wind (much like yesterday’s storm wind) that blew it east along the coast, all the way to Calais, and then all the way round Britain and back to Spain.
*No and a bit rude, my fair Clicky. The Armada Crisis was a strictly Anglo Fourth Turning*
The Armada Crisis (Fourth Turning, 1569–1594) began when the powerful Duke of Norfolk was linked to a Spanish plot against the English throne, a discovery which galvanized newly-Protestant England against the global threat of the Catholic Hapsburgs. A crescendo of surrogate wars and privateering culminated in England’s miraculous victory over the Spanish Armada invasion (in 1588). The mood of emergency relaxed after the successful resistance of Holland and the breaking of Spanish control over France.
Interestingly Frank also posted a video of US Presidential nominee, Donald Trump, talking about Brexit on his arrival at Turnberry golf course yesterday. I dunno, he does look rather more gray than orange 😉
*******
*/Yawn and stretch… That’s enough for now, Clicky. Time for a Song?*
Last week in the Red Universe, MEROVEE Frank posted ‘Start the Collapse‘…
This morning in the Blue Universe, Mikef317 posted news of scientific crumbling on Frank’s ‘Dreaming of a Bad Dream‘…
*Hello Clicky. Is that you dreaming of the collapse of Action on Smoking and Health? Righteous bastards!*
The authors called this effect “ego depletion” and said it revealed a fundamental fact about the human mind: We all have a limited supply of willpower, and it decreases with overuse. Eating a radish when you’re surrounded by fresh-baked cookies represents an epic feat of self-denial, and one that really wears you out. Willpower, argued Baumeister and Tice, draws down mental energy—it’s a muscle that can be exercised to exhaustion.
‘A limited supply of willpower’? That’s Tobacco Control’s sole reason for being, because we smokers lack the willpower to ‘kick’ our habit.
*Baumeister and Tice? Sounds like ‘Baumeister entice’, Clicky… *
entice (v.)late 13c., intice, from Old French enticier“to stir up (fire), to excite, incite,” which is of uncertain origin, perhaps from Vulgar Latin *intitiare “set on fire,” from Latin in-“in” (see in- (2)) + titio (genitive titionis) “firebrand,” which is of uncertain origin. Meaning “to allure, attract” is from c. 1300. Related:Enticed; enticing; enticingly.
*Ha! You included some kicking? You flash sew and sew, Clicky… Is that the doorbell?*
*******
Thoughtful Man stood on the doorstep, clutching a plastic bag to his chest. “Got it!” He passed the bag to me with a flourish as he stepped inside and stamped his feet.
I peered inside. “A game?”
“Yes. It’s the one Kit’s been after. It came out today.”
“The Division… Hey, I’m just including that in a post!” I turned the box over and read the blurb on the back.
“Excellent timing, then,” Thoughtful Man buffed his nails. “As you would expect.”
I rolled my eyes – we have differing views on timing; he prides himself on his precision.
“I’m surprised you even know about it,” he conceded later in the Library over an invigorating Red Bull and cigarette. “I didn’t think you paid much attention to the boys’ games.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t play them but I have to listen to them playing.” Our boys are not quiet.
“In fact Loopy’s friends refer to me as The Fairy CODmother.”
“They want me to adopt them.” Now it my turn to nonchalantly buff.
Thoughtful Man didn’t miss a beat. “Well, you do make a good sandwich.”
*******
*That reminds me, Clicky. I must collect his stab-proof vest from the cleaners… What were we talking about?*
CLICKY: The Righteous won’t like that.
*No they won’t… /grins… Maybe their collapse is starting, Click?*
Politics will eventually be replaced by imagery. The politician will be only too happy to abdicate in favor of his image, because the image will be much more powerful than he could ever be. (Marshall McLuhan)
CLICKY: Weapon of Choice
Rose, tickled pink, posted the scoop in comments with Frank in the Blue Universe…
CLICKY: Praise You
*Indeed, Clicky. Day after day, Frank, Rose, Harley, MJM and the rest of the commentators there debunk the lies that spew forth from the cancer-licking lips of the Anti-Tobacco Brigade… Nazi inspired lies that fall directly into the cauliflower ears of politicians.
Only Jeremy Scott could take a cue from a puritanical 1490s Florentine mobs and come up with ball gowns spliced with biker jackets, complete with singed edges and, at points, smoke rising out from their bustles.
The scene for his show was the destruction of decadence: his guests sat on plush velvet armchairs and chaise longues, in the centre of the space crumbled smashed-up chandeliers, crushed instruments and blitzed art work, an appropriation of that dark night, the so-called Bonfire of the Vanities, where the Renaissance ideology was viciously and literally attacked, with its progressive objects of beauty destroyed by arch conservatism.
Yup, Anna Cleveland’s tulle prom dress left a trail of white smoke billowing behind her as she walked. Other girls’ gowns had also been burned and tattered to shreds. All very derelicte, wouldn’t you say Zoolander?
Asked how he chooses his themes, Scott was simplistic in his response. “I was thinking about cigarettes and people’s addiction to fashion,” he said. “I don’t ever really dissect and wonder why I’m doing it. I just do it and put it out there.” Point and shoot.
CLICKY: Sunset
CLICKY: Rocking Skank
*Fuck /BEEP me… Fucking /BEEP beautiful, Clicky! Have a Song 😀 *
Library of Libraries 