May 2005 Archives
Whatever your feelings are for British MP George Galloway, you have to admire his address to the US Senate today. Address? More of a dressing down. It's forty-seven minutes of delicious politicking and affrontery, and half the fun lies in the faces of the reporters sitting behind him; "Oh no he didn't!"
Nice to be back in the Smoke, if just for a day; even better for being able to catch up
with my beautiful, darling, baby-sis, who is in brief transit for south Asia. Lucky minx.
I'd appreciate your opinion on the two pictures linked above; which do you prefer, and why? As a hobbyist photographer, I'm trying to gain a better idea of what, on average, makes a straightforward portrait image attractive to a pair of watching eyes. I'd like to have avoided decorating the images with text, but I've had my pictures stolen and published in the past; my bad for being naïve. Hopefully it won't be a hindrance to your forming an opinion. Thanks for your input if you do participate!
Spartacus brisant ses liens (1847), Denis Foyatier
Musée des Beaux Arts, Lille
Spartacus had a tiny penis
Petersfield Constituency, Cambridge
Fat, black, soft-leaded pencils were provided, and it was all over in seconds; stab at democracy achieved (Mister D, I reckon I'm definitely homophoric). I didn't vote as I'm generally inclined to do, and while I felt a momentary stab of regret about my choosing not to, it was a conscious decision borne of my own unwillingness to compromise. Strategic voting isn't my thing; voting with my heart, is. As the recent cover of the Economist resignedly highlighted, our choices are nothing to be proud of.
On my way out of the polling station, I nipped ahead of a flustered looking woman with a double-wide pushchair in order to hold the swinging door open for her. As she thanked her way past me, I saw her two tiny babies, and knew in that second that they were spitting images of their father, and definitely boys. I grinned and quipped,
"That'll be their first election then!"
Setting her hair with her fingertips, she punctuated her broad smile with a giggle, and offered,
"I suppose so, and hopefully the first of many."
While my expression remained kind, I experienced a confusingly visceral wave of sorrow; I'm not interested in analysing it publicly, but it was disquieting, and I'm rarely phased by anything. Ah well, it's done, and as the sectarians are wont to say, "God help us."
