2003 Notebook: Weak XXIX
gratuitous image
17 July 2003
No. 5,573 (cartoon)
I think you’re so incredibly beautiful.

I find you unbelievably irresistible.

Were you lying too?

18 July 2003
Sufficient, But Not Necessary
Rashid and I were discussing this, that, and the other thing, when Rashid opined that one of my propositions was “necessary, but not sufficient.”

“Necessary, but not sufficient!” I exclaimed, and grabbed my electronic doodad that translates my handwriting into text. “What a great concept!”

“You must surely jest. Such a precept must certainly be one with which you are familiar,” Rashid said. “Such knowledge is imparted in high school.”

“I guess I skipped class that day,” I replied. “And anyway, I went to an art school.”

“Sufficient,” Rashid commented, “but not necessary.”

19 July 2003
The Wicker Man
Dr. Batlan demanded that I watch The Wicker Man with him tonight. Since people have insisted that I see that particular film since I was born, I finally agreed.

Now that I’ve seen it, I have no idea what all the hoopla was about. The Wicker Man was nothing more than the story of another Scottish sojourn. As such holidays go, it was better than some and worse than others. I suppose the motion picture would provide more entertainment for people who’ve not suffered as many Scottish vacations as I have.

20 July 2003
A Good Review
Brian told me that most of my recent work was “kind of a joke, except it wasn’t funny.” I thanked Brian for what I thought that sounded like a good review.

21 July 2003
Ash Cigarettes
Arnold’s trying to stop smoking cigarettes, but he’s having a very difficult time shaking his addiction. He’s smoking cigarettes filled with ashes instead of tobacco, but empirical evidence suggests that weaning himself from nicotine addiction is proving to be extraordinarily difficult.

Arnold told me that he’s smoking much more but enjoying it less. That’s a metaphor for more things than I can shake a cigar at.

22 July 2003
Too Unobscure Artists
Andrea told me she saw an exhibit at the Fribourg of a painter who was carrying on the old tradition of painting tirelessly in obscurity.

“How was the work?” I asked.

“Dreadful,” Andrea replied.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I asked. “I wish more bad artists would return to the obscurity they merit.”

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©2003 David Glenn Rinehart