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European currency

A note on the superlative that a previous post was missing (here): i.e. on the specialest Disneyest superlative, the greatest, the happiest, the biggest, the longest rhumba line… It, this use of superlatives, demands a complete subjection to the principle of the creator’s imagination. Not, emphatically, the creative
Simon Taylor 21 Dec 2010

From Main Place Mall to the pollutant effect of humans in a world built for dogs & cars, or the Real World, Welcome back

J: Everything is a substitute. So we go from ‘everything is everywhere’ to ‘everything is a substitute.’ Substituting for place, reference; referral taking the place of deferral. Substituting for milk, dairy-free creamer. Substitutes for cream, butter, sugar, food. Food replaced by ‘what we crave’ – sugar, salt, the bare minumum of
Simon Taylor 20 Dec 2010

EVERYTHING is A SUBSTITUTE: the lie is that there is any real thing – keep it a secret!

the joke’s been made before: amplitude, volume. Fat and loud. J: You can understand why Americans make big disaster movies. It feels like we’re inside some vast beast. It sounds like it as well. The ride to Universal Studios went like this – in a coach you couldn’t
Simon Taylor 20 Dec 2010

nternational house of panicakes

Greeting you as you turn the corner onto the public concourse, We invented Must See. Some visual cues as to what. But like the injunction to Move forward, it is a direction, is stated, without a, without direction. And We invented it. Whereas we who are about to, can go
Simon Taylor 19 Dec 2010

… what’s that sound? … I like that sound. I love that sound. … It’s the sound of my shoes …: barcelona-munich-tom bradley lax

A day begun in Barcelona and ending in LA, well, Anaheim, the magic kingdom of Howard Johnsons. A numb departure from BCN, somehow. The thought had been too hard to contemplate that we would be leaving Europe, so that when it came to actually going, it was as if we’
Simon Taylor 19 Dec 2010

Amor de Barcelona: some images of passing adequacy & a relation from a board by night of regret & an ache at imminent departure

With vodka in mug, down Baluard, past the washing strung along the footpath, which I never snapped, to the almost hundred metre strip of sand beach, where I’m writing this, on the edge of a boardwalk. To my right, the D of the W building, the smaller sister of
Simon Taylor 18 Dec 2010

Camp Nou, Castell de Montjuic, Fundació de Joan Miró

We went seeking the Camp Nou Experience. Plus. First we had to get to Camp Nou, by way of Collblanc, Metro L5. Tourists flocking through streets where there were a conspicuous number of old people, to the stadium Barca’s home. Which, as it happens, is right next door to
Simon Taylor 17 Dec 2010

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