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My short coffee-table book of art film photography of Southern France is available on Amazon! (link in following post)
I've put together a little video to help convey its contents and atmosphere. You only live twice.
A. B. Thompson retweeted
Dreamt someone donated 3 fingers to a crab. It helped them with a diving job (or ???). They were literally grafted on. But then the crab got lost and turned up in Australia. I was watching it on the news and thinking "What fucking stupid thing to do - give your fingers to a crab"
A. B. Thompson retweeted
On l’appelle la gnôle…
En 1804, Napoléon offre un privilège à ses grognards : distiller leurs propres fruits, franc de taxe.
Un droit attaché à la terre, à la récolte, à l’homme.
La France compte alors des millions de paysans-distillateurs. C’est la naissance du bouilleur de cru.
Chaque région y met ses fruits.
Calvados et cidre en Normandie, mirabelle et quetsche en Lorraine, poire en Franche-Comté, marc et lie en Bourgogne, prune d’Ente en Périgord, châtaigne en Corse. Le « cru », ici, c’est la propriété agricole, pas une appellation. On distille ce qu’on a cultivé.
En 1960, ils sont encore 3 millions. L’État voit un manque à gagner colossal. Les lobbies de l’alcool industriel poussent.
Le privilège héréditaire est supprimé : plus de transmission entre générations. Seul le conjoint survivant peut en user jusqu’à sa mort. La « clause du grand-père » signe l’arrêt de mort.
30 000 titulaires en l’an 2000. Quelques centaines aujourd’hui avec une moyenne d’âge de 90 ans passé.
Ils s’éteignent avec leur alambic. Personne ne prendra leur suite.
Napoléon voulait récompenser ceux qui nourrissaient la France. L’État fiscal a fini le travail que les tranchées n’avaient pas réussi.
I hitchhiked across Central America with Mexican friends a decade ago, but brought my first semi-serious digital camera instead of a film camera, and most of the photos were on a laptop that died. I may in the future be able to salvage those files, but for now, this is all I have
A. B. Thompson retweeted
Stormy Afternoon and night Winton,QLD the dinosaur and Boulder opal capital of Australia. – at Winton, Queensland
A. B. Thompson retweeted
One of my favorite phrasal origins is chop-chop, which actually derived from a Cantonese word, gāp, meaning 'hurry'.
When British sailors were in Chinese ports, they were hearing Chinese dockworkers being yelled at in Cantonese, gāp-gāp (hurry-hurry), and this was transmitted into English with basically the same meaning.
A. B. Thompson retweeted
These things are serious. A courtier once accidentally blew in front of Queen Elizabeth I. He was so humiliated that he exiled himself for 20 years and, on his return to court, she said to him "We have forgot the fart".
Bus driver 'farted so badly' it led to sacking after colleagues 'needed a shower' dailystar.co.uk/news/latest-…
A. B. Thompson retweeted
Imperial Germany really is fascinating as a distinct civilisation, with very different attitudes to matters like colonialism to those that prevailed in Britain and France (Germany approached it in a purely pragmatic manner; no progressive talk of the white man’s burden in German newspapers and literature). This short book by Sombart, published in 1915, focuses on the cultural contrast between the Germans and the Brits.
A. B. Thompson retweeted
チャイコの1812聴いてたら夫が「これの本物の大砲のLPやばいんだよ、大砲部分のレコードの溝幅が広すぎて1発で目視できるの」て教えてくれて探してみたらめっちゃ揺れてた、これ針飛ばないんだ…!?
youtu.be/bVtML5sfcdo?si=Hsvu…
A. B. Thompson retweeted
It’s officially out!
Go check out the new acoustic cover of cowpoke.
You can find it on all streaming platforms, but here’s the link to Apple Music!
music.apple.com/us/album/cow…





















































