Thursday, May 31, 2012

That Old Master Painter From the Faraway Hills?

A difficult bit of editing/rewriting. Here is how the script came in. Both Detroit writer Mark Durfee and I agreed that it was inchoate, that is to say, really undeveloped writing:

 "Yesterday, on a day when she was particularly beautiful, a Montreal woman, the fervor of her spectacularly vivid eyes outlined in eyeliner by God, held me spellbound when she told me there was more to feminine beauty than a fabulous look. To me, reaching maturity in the world’s greatest newsroom, I thought I ought by now to be immune to explosions of great beauty. In the world of beautiful women one could see such women every day: at fashion press conferences, in the great hotels, in the magazines, on the Internet, possibly even across from you at breakfast. By now, I thought, beautiful women ought to be as natural to the male eye as sex. But then, to me, women are never just natural. They happen to be a phenomenon."
Here is how I rewrote the first paragraph, hoping to place powerfully felt emotions, at least the writer's emotions as I sensed them, on the printed page, trying for elegance and tact.

"Rebecca appears before you through the steam while you are rolling around in your old mahogany- supported porcelain bathtub, the kind with brass claws attached, filled almost to the top. A a feeling of warmth and fuzziness. Images of Rebecca. Rebecca, her 1920's Vogue face, the bobbed hair, a Drew Barrymore fallen into the rye one September day, swallowed, almost drowned like you in the warm comfort of your antique bathtub...(  Writer Alfred Warkertin: Don't take offence. Says old writer Norman Podhoretz that after executing good writing, you almost want to go off and masturbate. Says a pal, Yeah. It shows in some of Podhoretz' writing. Maybe it's showing in my attempt at editing. :)

Friday, May 18, 2012

Stephen. You are leakey.

There has been a spate of documentaries on public television of late. Evolution, yes. And generations of Leakeys, "leakeypants" and maidens in middens. And the august Dr. Suzuki seems to think there were hobbits in Malaysia. This led me to research tirelessly until, with scrupulous scholarship, I came across this comment on one of the scientific papers. Speaking of evolution, why is it that girl's bums look like peaches? Is it for the same reason that bananas look like dicks? # posted by Jagd Kunst : Wednesday, March 08, 2006 The quest for truth. We flinch not, neither do we falter. If you don't know peaches, you don't know dick. And I don't know Llamas from lamas. But watching the behaviour of those cute lamas, I would surely address them as "your horniness."

Sunday, May 06, 2012

A DREAM

A DREAM He saw today, in his own eye Yesterday's reflection of the pyramid on whose west face there was a sliver of a shaft. In his own mind's eye he descended the shaft, which seemed just wide enough for a man to crawl or fall through. He had the sense of falling as he slid uncontrollably down this shaft. Along the shaft's wall were suddenly Egyptian hieroglyphics and images of the various gods. He kept descending, his downward hurtle occasionally braked for some moments by his loose clothing. down down down. Down towards the paintin of jackal-headed god Anubis, beneath which was a lower painting seemed more like the image of a minotaur . The minotaur had an embarrassed look as if he had been dead and now unceremoniously summoned, and like the dead of the past, he seemed embarrassed by the living. The minotaur turned away from the descending man, trying all the while, to cover the huge bull-like balls that he had. There seemed no need for a sword, but the man keps sliding lower and lower, down beneath the god images and he knew, even if he were to wake up, the images would stay with him forever.