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Photobooth
Following popular tradition these days, we're going to do our traditional thing of being marginally nostaglic, nostalgic about our nostalgia, even, to the point of living in the past, dredging up issues almost verbatim, which saves us having to employ nearly as many people now as we used to in our heady days of excess, and which (the employing less people) we hear is entirely fashionable these days. Or perhaps, taking umbrage with a few choice words from the previous and kick-off sentence, it's not popular tradition, we were just thinking of our traditional behaviour (so traditional/predictable it could be charted with those things they chart with on nature programmes, like electronic tags or implants or something, which reported to clever devices which grown men (and possibly women, though you don't see nearly as many of them out there with cameras, bush hats, sunglasses, and the rest of the things that go along with running a nature programme) with video cameras hiding in trees and bushes could consult and determine where they would next have to find a suitable bush to hide in and place their camera. This is assuming you can either tattoo us with GPS'd trackable tag things on to us with the minimum of squirming on our part, as you can imagine not fitting those implants or tags properly would wreak havoc on your tracking systems, and have you in entirely the wrong area, cameras pointing at a rather nice set of plants and a dirt patch whilst your quarry was elsewhere, supping out of a river or something, whatever quarry do when they're not being watched by cameras, which is presumably the same as what they're doing while they are being watched by cameras, but it's a bit of a philosophical conundrum, that one, isn't it?), which is, we think, self-evident, though you wouldn't think we thought that, considering our tendency to point out our traditional behaviour, which is in itself a bit of a tradition of sorts, and perhaps the one to which we were referring with the initial mention of tradtions. Nor is the use of marginally sanctioned, or warranted, anyway, unless you presume we mean it in a post-modern, we're all marginalised sense of the word. Which is vaguely annoying, but that's okay, it's only a hypothesis, and who's to say what we really meant by it, anyway.
'Heady days of excess' (capitalisation added by me, here, as a grammatical rule I'm not prepared to transgress for the sake of preserving whatever it is I just was attempting to quote) is also unfortunate, for a few reasons, none of which I could elaborate upon without annoying even myself, so there you go.
And if you think about it, it all sort of comes back to deconstruction/destruction, doesn't it? Or at the very least one hell of a lot of parentheses.
June, 1993.
What the hell were we thinking?
Something, probably. Probably even had a good reason for it. Just can't quite remember where, exactly, it was that I put my passport photos and all that change.
disclaimer:
These disclaimers have been quite short recently, haven't they?
And now marvellously self-referential!
I would like to apologise personally to all those Sane Magazine fans out there that may have been disappointed by the distinct lack of doors in the main issue this week. Sorry about that.
Oh, and hey to all the college kids out there listening.
And, before I forget, thanks for the letters this week, as well.
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