Just when you think life can't possibly get more annoying

There I was on my morning walk up in Alum Rock Park, frolicking among the flora and fauna, taking in the fresh air and soothing rhythms of the creek as it flowed gently down the canyon, thinking that life couldn't possibly get any better, when suddenly as if to jolt me from my reverie I heard two hikers coming up behind me talking office talk. "That's just great", I thought, "just when I was starting to feel relaxed". They got closer and closer and the conversation got louder and louder, but I just thought "Ok, no big deal. I'll just slow down and once they've passed I can return to the pastoral splendor of this magnificent morning".

Slowly they approached, their conversation becoming more and more annoying, and I started walking even slower, more desperate than ever for them to pass. Then, when they were about five paces behind, I heard a little tune ring out - "Doop dee doop doop dee deep doop", and I thought "No, don't tell me. Please, no. Don't tell me that's a CELL PHONE RINGING!!" Sure enough, I kid you not, the woman took out her cell phone, in the park, on the trail, frolicking among the flora and fauna, and began to talk.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that there was anyone in this world so anal or so self-important as to bring their cell phone to go hiking in the park. That has got to be one of the most annoying things I've ever experienced in my life. What is it with people nowdays, anyways? Can't they survive ten minutes without their fancy-dancy technology?

So that's when I began to scheme. You know, maybe I could accidentally trip or something, and brush her arm, and maybe her cell phone could sort of accidentally end up at the bottom of the creek (and maybe she could accidentally end up the bottom of the creek with it). And then I began to wonder if it was true that mountain lions are attracted to microwave transmissions, and if it was possible that an angry cougar could leap out from the bushes and clench it's jaws around her throat and hurl her to the ground like some limp and useless rag doll. Oh, what a gory scene that would be, to see the blood gush from her veins, to see her writhing in pain, and to know that she deserved it. Unfortunately none of those things happened. I took the next fork in the trail and left them behind, but the walk was ruined.

Of course, what's even worse is this new human skin network that Microsoft has just patented. Now, through the miracle of science, we can use the conductivity of the human body to connect different network devices together. Well, isn't that just great. Now a person can go for a walk in the park and bring their entire office with them. Just plug the phone in one ear, plug the printer in another, and plug the fax machine in, er, some other place, and you're all set to go. I think when we get to that point the civilized world should just stop what it's doing, chuck all the techno gizmos in the trash, go back to the Renaissance and start all over again. And try to get it right this time.

Olympia

Well, enough of that ranting - let's talk about Manet. I was browsing through an Art book at the bookstore and happened across Manet's Olympia, one of my very favorite paintings. Although it's a nude, Olympia is not really nude in the painting, not in the classical or romantic sense anyways, and what I find so compelling is that she is reclining there so stark naked. By that I mean the light in the painting glares as it illuminates, and she is not idealized or venerated, just naked. I don't know why I've always been so drawn to the work, but many others have been drawn to it too, and if I ever get to Paris that painting is one of the first things I will want to see.

What's really strange, though, is that for some reason Olympia always reminds me of an old Millay poem I like. I don't know what it is about the painting or the poem that makes the connection, but the one always reminds me of the other. I guess it's because the Millay poem is similarly stark, in it's own way, and has a glare much like the one which seems to surround Olympia.

To prove my point, just picture the painting in your mind (or if you don't know the painting, just use your internet skills to find it), and then with that picture firmly in your mind, read the following poem:

Rendevouz - Edna St. Vincent Millay

Not for these lovely blooms that prank your chambers did I come, Indeed,
I could have loved you better in the dark;
That is to say, in rooms less bright with roses, rooms more casual, less aware
Of History in the wings about to enter with benevolent air
On ponderous tiptoe, at the cue "Proceed"
Not that I like the ash-trays over-crowded and the place a mess,
Or the monastic cubicle too unctuously austere and stark,
But partly that these formal garlands for our Eighth Street Aphrodite are a bit too Greek,
And partly that to make the poor walls rich with our unaided loveliness
Would have been more chic.

Yet here I am, having told you of my quarrel with the taxi-driver over a line of Milton, and you laugh; and you are you none other.
Your laughter pelts my skin with small delicious blows.
But I am perverse: I wish you had not scrubbed - with pumice, I suppose -
The tobacco stains from your beautiful fingers. And I wish I did not feel like your mother.