The Case of the Diddled Daguerreotype
"daguerreotype -n. early photograph using a silvered plate and mercury vapour. [Daguerre, name of its inventor]"
-Oxford
One day we're scraping the bong; next day we're smoking mendo and sipping fine bubbly. That's show biz, folks. We were flying on a wing and a prayer and now it looks like we're headed straight to the top. I want to thank all the literati out there that tuned in for the pilot of our first minispheries, "Poe Blog" w/Peter Francis, on Sunday night. Those guys really have a tiger by the tail. Best of luck.
Now, on a more occult note, and a grandiose one at that, Sunday's broadcast was chimed in by a metaphysical visitation from the Master himself. I won't even pretend to fathom the details of how or why. Suffice to say, I'm floored, honored, and completely fu!#ing mystified.
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but the next morning it hit me like a ton of bricks...
9 AM at the "Field Ops" booth in the New Orleans French Market. I spy P.Francis waving the morning paper and trucking down the A row with the Devil at his heels.
My guess is Poe Blog made the headlines, but Pete does me one better.
"Say, Ol' Chap," I ask "Why the sudden bug up your ass?"
He's breathless and stuttering,
"Uh..p...p...p...Poe...(pant)...(pant)...uh...p...p...(sniff)...Poe was here! ...HERE!!!"
What the...? I thought for sure they'd gotten to him, but then he shoved the mangled Pycayune in my face.
The next thing I remember I'm looking up at Peter's shit-eating, maniacal smile as he fans me with the paper, and Ali, the friendly senegalese purse vender, daubs my forehead with a moist hanky.
To my utter disbelief, wafting back and forth, smack dab on the front page of the Times Picayune, is none other than Edgar Allan Poe.
(To be continued...)
-Oxford
One day we're scraping the bong; next day we're smoking mendo and sipping fine bubbly. That's show biz, folks. We were flying on a wing and a prayer and now it looks like we're headed straight to the top. I want to thank all the literati out there that tuned in for the pilot of our first minispheries, "Poe Blog" w/Peter Francis, on Sunday night. Those guys really have a tiger by the tail. Best of luck.
Now, on a more occult note, and a grandiose one at that, Sunday's broadcast was chimed in by a metaphysical visitation from the Master himself. I won't even pretend to fathom the details of how or why. Suffice to say, I'm floored, honored, and completely fu!#ing mystified.
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but the next morning it hit me like a ton of bricks...
9 AM at the "Field Ops" booth in the New Orleans French Market. I spy P.Francis waving the morning paper and trucking down the A row with the Devil at his heels.
My guess is Poe Blog made the headlines, but Pete does me one better.
"Say, Ol' Chap," I ask "Why the sudden bug up your ass?"
He's breathless and stuttering,
"Uh..p...p...p...Poe...(pant)...(pant)...uh...p...p...(sniff)...Poe was here! ...HERE!!!"
What the...? I thought for sure they'd gotten to him, but then he shoved the mangled Pycayune in my face.
The next thing I remember I'm looking up at Peter's shit-eating, maniacal smile as he fans me with the paper, and Ali, the friendly senegalese purse vender, daubs my forehead with a moist hanky.
To my utter disbelief, wafting back and forth, smack dab on the front page of the Times Picayune, is none other than Edgar Allan Poe.
(To be continued...)
posted by R.Chip DeGlinkta at 6:14 AM
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