peter andrew jones

how do you say no to this?

those alien days

three years ago today

Wow! I didn’t know I could share my Criterion . . . collection. I feel like a guy in his 30s sharing this, but whatever: here it is.

I got some good stuff in there. Look on my collection, ye Mighty, and rejoice:

Anyway . . .

I feel like I need to post this once a year . . .

What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly? I hope it does, he thought, see clearly, because I can’t any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk. Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone’s sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too.

Western Europe is in big trouble for the next few days on account of the heatwave . . . Young Gego and I are hiding out in my high tower here in Berlin, which is now in Submarine Mode. I’ve drawn two layers of blackout curtains over all the windows and the fan is on high blast. Gego, who is a bit of a deadbeat, can usually be found in front of it . . . and despite permanently wearing a fur coat, he seems relatively unbothered. But today was just the practice round. The main event is this weekend. Will we survive . . . ? Of course we will. Gego and I are unkillable. Or didn’t you know?

yes