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Ginotti & Catullus
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Reviews
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Above, sculpture by Giacomo Ginotti, abbreviated in English to "Slave". I love the detail, the way he's carved her both straining against her chains/cuffs and trying to shield her modesty, and yet...
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And Catullus, whom I'll add to the list of authors I'd prefer to read in print, but I'm in love with his opening line to "Catullus 16": "Pēdīcābo ego vōs et irrumābō", which I won't translate for you here (thank you Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catullus_16 but does leave me rather wondering how the rest of the poem goes...I mean, how do you top that?
Otherwise, ...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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Otherwise, in news from the hood, other than stressing over a freaking broken (and very slow and time consuming repair/migration/upgrade) this is what I've been up to.
A new series, Netflix, Guy Murchie's "The Gentleman". Nothing for substance, amusing for style, he's a knack for dialogue.
One thing that I notice is that while he's busy portraying gangsters and posh aristocrats none of the portrayals are even remotely accurate, more just confirming the audiences best prejudices about the circumstances displayed.
And I rewatched "Into the Wild" - which, surprisingly emotionally affected me. The character of Chris McCandless, the people he meets - the young girl filled with longing, the hippy couple, the old man who helped him to make his belt.
That was the beauty of it, and the frank depiction of the relationships that he forms, I think I enjoyed it more on the second watching. I especially enjoyed the line "new experiences without which we grow old", for I've been growing old all winter.
Then there was "Burn After Reading" - the lightest of the Cohen brother's films by far, their idea of a rom-com or spy movie. Stellar performances by George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Frances McDormand, John Malkovich, actually, pretty much everyone. Not my favorite of theirs, but even their worst movies are better realized than most Hollywood dross...
And I started a couple of new paintings, which I'd post here but there's a learning curve here that I'm not yet on top of. Suffice it to say that I primed a canvas and then got scared of it ending up like my website...
Facebook, lots of nuttiness up there. I've saved a lot of great "AI" images of Jesus and stewardesses for you. I think they can't get any more absurd, and then they do....
Wing nut shitposting that she wants a "Strong Male Leader" like they "Have in Russia". Hmmm. Facebook, the repository for all the 'friends' you'd never speak to in real life...
She (Wing Nut) also posts links to videos....'rumble.com', which is like the free-speech alt-right white-supremacist alternative to YouTube.
It's pretty bad. I warned you.
And of course, the US Election, Climate Change, The myth of Donald Trump as Christ, his crucifiction, now, in the media, in the courts, foreshadows for the Christian Right his resurrection, and never mind that he's shown his hoof, waved his tail, worn his horns, I am greatly worried that he's coming back...
And for the moment that catches us somewhat up.
Fuckity Fuck-Fuck Fuckaroo...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Rants
- Hits: 74
So, overdue and much needed updates to the website. Fuckity-fuck-fuckaroo. All going smooth until I install a component....then - bang.
Broken. You saw it broken in the front end but the back-end was something else.
Oddly - humorously - the component was working fine. The only bloody thing.
So, fuck around, find out, fuck around, find out.
I really can't 'afford' to leave all the information behind, and the database doesn't allow upgrading.
There will probably be a few more fuckity-fuckaroo moments on the way to getting this thing up and running - an unenviable amount of loading components, reordering, fixing thing up.
There was, for a while, the very real peril that I'd lose some 1000+ pages of content, some 4,000+ articles comprising of millions of words and thousands of photos. Almost 20 years of scrap paper thrown into the basket. This, naturally, rather upset me. I wonder why.
Anyways, the past week this is where I've been, fucking around, finding out, 40+ hours for a "seamless" migration that - to be sure, is anything but seamless.
Now, this being the most current version of my website it will be a fresh start, but the old content - if for any reason you need or are bored and crawling - is all here: V4.rodboyle.com.
I'll try migrating it over - at some point, but there's a lot to be done before then, so it'll be the balance of content and form...
Pets I have owned...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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MEANWHILE, a list of Pets I have owned.
This, an exercise in memory, more for my impending AI clone I'm commissioning to haunt my Children, the undying father....
The earliest memory (one of a very few), living, Victoria, an apartment building with a balcony. I'm small, in a high-chair, I'm delighted because in my cereal ("Rice Krispies" I believe, but may be wrong) I've found the prize, a small plastic jet, red. A toy. I seem to think my Mom is a Stewardess, she's gone a lot, hence my delight with jet. On the small black and white TV placed conveniently to amuse me there's "The Wonderful World of Disney", I don't remember the episode.
Outside, sun shining, the balcony door is open, I'd been to the beach a few days before, collected a bucket full of clams and minnows and crabs, brought them home and filled my small swimming pool with them, and now, in the sun, they're all dead and turning and you can smell them wafting in....
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Moose Jaw, living at 911 1st NW, in the basement, a pet turtle. Popular in the early 70's, they came with cheap plastic palm tree and island and a tiny moat of a sea that surrounds them...
The turtle, one day it escapes, it's nowhere to be found, only a couple of weeks later we find it, far from it's moat, the island and the palm tree, dead under the carpet...
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A dog, "Mutt", small, black, forever jerking at the leash, impossible to walk, always trying to get away. One day he succeeded. I found out later that he was taken to the country by my dad and allowed off leash, where he went for a final run from which he never returned...
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"Archie", some mid-sized curly haired dog we had briefly, then disappeared, I remember as a child finding a decomposing dog over at Central School across the street that matched his description, ghoulish, victim of a traffic accident that managed to crawl off the street and find a place to die...
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"Cindy", a bitch perpetually in heat, Mom would set up with a pellet gun outside the basement window and waited to send off all her gentlemen callers. She apparently ended up on "The Farm".
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A hamster, that my mother tired of cleaning the cage for and so set free and I recaptured it in the neighbors garden only in it's brief taste of freedom it got sick and soon after my recapture died...
I never forgave my Mom for that.
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Others, a "Mugsy", named for "Mr. Mugs", a popular Scholastic Children's book, large, black and white, as well sent to the farm.
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The innumerable captured pets of childhood, frogs, snakes, a wounded bird, all to different ends, most released back where they were caught.
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Others, I'm not sure.Goldfish probably A small budgie, but I'm older now, in High School, and the budgie flew out the door one day and was never seen of again. My brother, I recall, was quite upset.
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In University, a daschund for a few days, supposedly in my keeping as the "Student Mascot" for the Arts Students Union. Not my idea, and after a few days not my problem. The dog, a lugubrious daschund, perpetually farting, incontinent, there was no way, and it went back to where it had come from...
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And in adulthood, nothing, gerbils, hamsters, mice for the children, and "Princess", a cat who made the trip to the Kootenays with me but proved to be a lousy traveler, gifted to a friends daughter who quite liked her and proved to be a good pet owner.
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And that's the carnage. You don't realize until looking back all the damage you've done, and while I'd like a dog, cat, fainting goat and a variety of others, a chance to atone the slaughter, these things will have to wait. None short of the dog would match my lifestyle, and there's no pets where I'm living.
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