Our friend Chester could be easily dismissed as an automobile materialist camera junkie with an assortment of traditional vices. But, then, it would hard to reconcile nuggets of literary brilliance like this from his old blog [Musing about art exhibition he attended] :
I had been hoping that it would give me a nice opportunity to stand in a small circle with a glass of Bordeaux, a wedge of Gruyère, and thoughtfully stroke my goatee while expounding upon how witty it is to pair French wine with Swiss cheese, and what that all has to do with Fellini’s films, and how Fellini is so passé, now that Grand Guignol imagery has been viewed as declassé ever since the post-premodernists lost their creative drive due to bickering over whether they’re an art movement of their very own or if they’re simply a euphemistic stand-in for plain-old modernists. It was in preparation of precisely such a scenario that I grew out my goatee in the first place. If I had a girlfriend, I'd bring her along too, just so that I could introduce her as my "lover," not as my "girlfriend," because that's pedantic and a pet-term of the paternalistic bourgeoisie. Unfortunately, I was unable to grow a girlfriend in time.
And then, of course, all perception slides back into place upon seeing a picture like this:
I resent you calling my vices "traditional." I think, if anyone makes alcoholism fresh and new, I do.
Posted by: Chester | March 29, 2004 at 02:39 PM
Well said, such a person should be a good sentence, or the future will be more rampant.
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