The Equasion of Empire

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They sit in a triangle around the table, sipping the wine. They are skirting the inevitable European conversation when there are Americans around: The War. Somehow, M. Tristan gets on tangential rant:

“The Jew, you see, is the equal sign in the equasion of Empire, you see? He is enslaved by physics… snatched by the great empire of physics: Egypt. There he helps to build the pyramids. He is the mason for the Egyptions and so learns the mathematics and the physics and when the jew escapes back to Zion, he builds his temple with this knowledge, but then the next empire of engineers, Rome, snatches Zion from him. The first great victory arch in Rome commemorates the taking of Israel from the jews. The arch, the very symbol of Roman technology and physics, you see and the the Jew? He is sent wandering the empire… not a slave, but a free agent… with his own mathematics and morality… able to lend money and invent the merchant class in Europe… untill in a final chess move here in Switzerland, the jew snatches the fire from the gods… Einstein.. the superior physics and he gives it like a gift to the Americans and so the Americans in turn give him back Israel and thus the Americans become the next great Empire. That is the equation and it balances on the fate of the jew…. or the fate of physics, but this seems the same thing almost… knowledge built from laying stones of pyramids and reaching towards the stars.”

She says, “It’s vaguely disturbing to hear anyone with a German accent refer to The Jew, but I can’t quite tell if what you’re saying is actually Zionist, or anit-semetic, or both…”

“None, really,” M. Tristan said. “Just an observation on the fate of man as it connects to physics… I am interested in history and books, you see and the first and greatest book is nothing, but a history of the Jews. So it always seems a good place to start a discussion of history… though in reality, like all humanity, the story starts in Africa, but the people who wrote books forgot how to read hieroglyphics for so long… untill the Rosetta stone.”

“The wine is delicious,” Pat says. “Such good wine. I guess I CAN taste the difference now with the new bottle.”

“Now if we want to talk about wine we have to talk about Persia and….”

“The Jew,” she said finishing the sentence.

“Certainly they were involved in the trade and after all it is Jesus’ first miracle…”

“LeChaim,” Pat said raising his glass.
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Jimi In Red

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I was terrifyingly sick all yesterday (and still not great today). I had countless fever dreams that I was painting a great picture and then I’d wake up all excited that I’d gotten some work done even with this stomach virus… only to realize I hadn’t painted a thing. So anyway here is a Hendrix start from Sonja and a finish by her of my start for the Library.
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Rome Roamin' (Notes on a Spit Take)


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The steeple video is from our man in France, Remy. He was commenting on the spit take that he would love to taste such a wine together some day (of course in the spit take it’s actually flat diet coke… half of the reason I chose black and white). It got me thinking about the scene. I came up with the spit take over the boozy hollidays when we opened a nice bottle of Burgundy. As I was airating it (sucking air through it, not smelling) I actually inhaled some… the better half laughed with disdainful glee.
“Pretentious moron,” quoth she, or some such.
So I tried to recreate that moment, but all the spit takes were off camera into a bucket and sounded fake as I wasn’t perpared to actually inhale “wine”. However, as a true method actor, or moron, I ended up snorting the “wine” on the last take. In other words, the spit take is real, but not how I’d planned it.
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IT IN Park


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Corked

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She comes back from the lu and sees him talking to the old man. They make eye contact. She mouths: “YOU ARE TALKING TO THE OLD MAN!”
He makes a YES with his eyes and the old man truns to see her emerge from the interior of the restaurant into the glourious sun that sparkles in all colors like a floating oil slick off her raven black hair. Time slows delieriously and the world seems to watch her slowly sway and float towards the table.
“Speaking of the devil,” Pat says.
“You told me I’m an angel,” Caroline says.
“You are most assuredly that,” M. Tristan says.
“Now he is a gentleman,” She says.
“Of course he is,” Pat says.
“Not so very gentle, I’m afraid,” M. Tristan says cryptically and the waiter pulls the cork on the Chateau Margaux. It is a hollow gasp of a pull and the waiter pours a small amount of the wine into the glass and they all look at the glass and study the sun coming through the redness of it.
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