Saturday, February 27, 2010

Doorway to Amsterdam

Live Without Dead Time book cover
The absolute best way to imagine Amsterdam is through Mike Starling’s fine art photos….historic architecture, cafes, canals, bicycles, intelligent graffiti, inviting storefronts, and people in a relaxed state of mind. Live Without Dead Time is an exquisite collection of perfectly captured colorful scenes—some are glimpses of another life, some are spontaneous, some reflect a documentarian—all are artistically framed to capture the best of Amsterdam. This book is for the imagination, since the images explode with possibilities and spawn creative thought. As a doorway to a city, Live Without Dead Time is well worth the cover charge.

2 comments:

  1. Quadruple thinking my motive for posting a comment, I've come to rest on, "just to piss you off". How dare you abandon your blog in 2017! - What the fuck am I supposed to do - ever think about, 'Mr. Writer'? It's not that I should occupy your mind - an ethereal nemesis alien to us both - a 'writer' that doesn't write - what am I to make of it? Perhaps 'Mr. Writer', you should examine a career change - I recently saw a 'help wanted' sign at a truck stop on 94 for a 'Pubic Plucker'. Deeply intrigued, I asked the proprietor for details and he ushered me into the Men's Room and pointed to the blue plastic mesh at the bottom of the urinal - "Clogs up" is all he said. "I got just the guy", I told him - "Shit, he don't write no more.!"

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  2. So, I nudge Mr. Writer and give him the tip, adding, "it may involve some classwork", which he brushes off with, "I'm a college grad - fool all of the people some of the time! Besides, I'm a writer he sez." Again, I'm intrigued - "then why don't you write?" "not enough in it for me." he replies, adding, "people don't know shit! I should be famous, you know - those dumbasses stopping me on the sidewalk for autographs, appearances (multiple) on Oprah, money to burn and the chicks for free - but nooooooo, I get stuck with a doorman gig - fuck em...fuck em all." So I go trite but true - "A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer...a bird sings because it has a song". Mr. Writer gives me a smug look - "I'll give that some consideration." he condescends. "Asshole", I whisper.

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