a visual collective outlet of inspiration
capitalism explained. thank you and sorry about the low-res. by hk
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the jaguar xj6c: the ultimate coup
“the xj6c, the rare collectible classic, remains one of, if not the best value for money classic cars available today.”
if there is one car to own before you die it is the jaguar xj6c sports coupe. it is so extremely well proportioned i could call it one of my most favorite cars. its not as famous as the classic e-type series I, II, or II but for me its a lesser appreciated child who is just as smart and handsome. a silver with a black roof will do me just fine. be prepared to change the entire engine, electrical system but otherwise your set to cruise in style.
some history on the xjc: “the xjc is a two door version of the xj6 four door. it was the last jaguar car to be designed and built by sir william lyons. in 1969, he took a reject 2.8 litre rhd xj6 body shell (to become #1 prototype) and fashioned it into the xjc. it was tried with both 4.2 and 5.3 engines with both versions becoming known as xj33 or xj34, depending on which engine was fitted at the time. this number one prototype was supposed to be scrapped but somehow it escaped the crushers. after spending a few years in england it has been fully restored and now resides in western australia.
there was a total of only 10,426 cars produced
the jaguar public would have to wait 4 more years before production xjcs could be seen. they were first shown in september of 1973 at the London motor shows but they had to wait a total of 6 years (1975) for the first production model. prior to going into production about 20 prototypes were hand built in a combination of rhd and lhd. 1973 was the busiest year with 14 of these hand built specials being produced, 8 in lhd and 6 in rhd. the two door coupe is based on the shorter wheelbase xj series l platform. without the central window pillars the coupe body suffered from two main problems, these being structural rigidity and severe wind noise. the widening and strengthening of the rear window pillar overcame the rigidity problem.
daimler sovereign and the daimler double six
when the xj coupes arrived, they were clearly meant to be the sporty version of the xj models. in the uk, europe, south africa, new zealand and australia they were offered in four versions: jaguar 4.2c; jaguar 5.3c; daimler sovereign and the daimler double six. in the north american market, xjc’s were only offered in two forms and were badged as the jaguar xj6c and jaguar xj12c. daimler xjcs were never imported into the us. another basic difference between the two markets was the bumper bars. north america had large rubber bumper bars to comply with crash regulations, whilst the rest of the world had the full chrome bumpers. in the uk market, air conditioning and a manual transmission were optional, as were the choice of leather or cloth seats. all coupes were equipped with a black vinyl roof as standard equipment, except for the one that was specially produced for jaguars andrew whyte. the actual reason for the standard vinyl roof was not clear, but contrary to urban legend it was not because there was a welded seam in the roof!
most likely it was because the marketing folks insisted on it, as vinyl roofs were the flavor of the month in the automotive industry at that time. whatever the case, many present day owners have chosen to remove this feature. sadly the production of the xjc was all too short. after commencement in 1975 the last of these great vehicles rolled off the line in november 1977. the final 96 coupes were actually badged as 1978 cars – for whatever reason is anybody’s guess. the xjc was a victim of the times and was never really given the attention or backing it deserved. paradoxically this has helped the xjc to become the rare collectible classic it is today, although prices have never reached the dizzy heights achieved by the e type. it remains one of, if not the best value for money classic cars available today. to this day, the xjc is jaguars only two-door fixed head coupe saloon.” by dd
some thoughts on kindness
macarthur fellow and one of my personal favorite living authors mr. george saunders reminds us (in an animated trailer by tim bierbaum) that the greatest gift we can give is to be kind. it is all too often that human beings forget this; kindness is the brilliance that transcends time. by sv
a view of things
for the inaugural day of national poetry month, here’s the view of scotsman edwin morgan. i too love hank’s string vest, and simply detest gooseberries. by sv
flash fiction
the shortest story ever told? maybe the most meaningful? i’ve read some discrepancies about hemingway’s origination of the quote, but no matter who wrote it, this is some consummate flash fiction. by sv
love song
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn’t resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin’s bow,
which draws one voice out of two seperate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
some beautiful words from rainer maria rilke on this friday; to lighten and enlighten. by sv
“to be worth something or nothing…
…to create or not to create. in the first case everything is justified. everything, without exception. in the second case, everything is completely absurd. the only choice then to be made is of the most aesthetically satisfying form of suicide: marriage, and a forty-hour week, or a revolver.”
when i was sixteen years old, scrummaging through my high school library while i was supposed to be researching some project; i came across the journals of albert camus. i had just read the stranger, which was quite impactful on an indignantly naive teenager, so my intrigue was boundless. to this day, it is my most cherished piece of literature, one i go back to more than any other. next thursday, the seventh of november being what would have been albert’s centenary, the journal’s message and presence in my handbag is incumbent. in other news, i thought dd would appreciate the photograph, camus and his twin daughters, catherine and jean. by sv
Glenn o’brien remembers lou reed
Hey Lou, it’s me. “I wished I talked to you more when you were alive…”
You wrote that to Andy when he bought it. Well, fucking ditto.
I just wanted to say that you went out well. You went out on top. And the whole fucking thing…your um, oeuvre, is like, scintillating and mind-boggling and thrilling and scary. Thrills and chills, fear and loathing, and then, just when we least expected it, you pulled out a big fat heart.
I first saw Lou Reed when I was in college. It had to be the summer of ’67 because the first Velvet Underground album, The Velvet Underground & Nico, had come out in March. The one with the Warhol peel-able banana on the inside of the LP. I had seen it in the record store. I think I didn’t have enough money to buy the album right off but I knew that the band was involved with Andy Warhol and they looked more interesting than anybody I’d ever seen before, and that was good enough for me. There was Andy on the back cover, staring through a tambourine. Lou was the guitar player in wraparound shades and a cop hairdo holding a guitar with his fingers bent in a weird posture, possibly resulting from taking a pill.
So I went to see The Velvets play at La Cave, a folk club on the East side of Cleveland, Ohio. I had gone there numerous times to see gentle folkies like Bob Gibson, Tom Rush, Judy Collins, and Ian & Sylvia, but I was especially psyched to see the weird band managed by Andy Warhol that had a songs called “Heroin,” “The Black Angel’s Death Song,” and “All Tomorrow’s Parties.” With the incredibly beautiful German singer who was in La Dolce Vita. Nico!
…..
by pp.
Cineaction: Michelangelo Antonioni Blow-up
great article on blow-up by writer george porcari in cineaction magazine. a good read for any fan… i wish i had the transcript to post, but was not about to retype the whole thang. by xy
“does good music need to be good?”
“the duo has become so good at making records that i replay parts of ‘random access memories’ repeatedly while simultaneously thinking it is some of the worst music i’ve ever heard.”
sasha frere-jones, the new yorker’s brilliant columnist and music critic wrote this article in may, and it is still looming in my conscious each time i hear a track from the “noodly jazz fusion” album. we were discussing the album here at ts headquarters earlier, and dd noted on the brilliant inconsistency, once again bringing the above words to mind. really good bad music. as usual, the french are onto something; especially since we are talking about this, months later. by sv
an immodest proposal
in their 2013 fiction issue, vice magazine is featuring the above pictures in a spread entitled the ever-so-cunning (can you sense my facetiousness yet?) last words. the fashion spread features models, you know, doing model-y things in their haute couture, except here’s the catch: they are depicting female writers who have committed suicide! ah yes, please, let’s procure and solidify even more glorification in this world. women in fashion are not disposable enough, let’s juxtapose that fleeting nature with the timelessness of literature and the written word. is anything valuable anymore? perhaps not. the spread, styled by annette lamothe-ramos and photographed by annabel mehran, depicts charlotte perkins gilman (with the ubiquitous yellow wallpaper, naturally), sanmao (who hung herself with a pair of stockings, so don’t you want a pair too!), virginia woolf (not nicole kidman), sylvia plath, elise cowen, iris chang (who only took her own life in 2004, but fashion leaves no room for the grieving), and dorothy parker, who maybe unbeknownst to vice DID NOT KILL HERSELF despite many attempts. at the end of the day, am i being too harsh to expect more from the world? is this truly surprising when gratification is often at our fingertips? i don’t know. what i do know, is that dorothy parker, one of my idols, deserves better. by sv
Herman Melville: Moby Dick sans cashmere
for my dear xy
“as i sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as i bathed my hands among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, woven almost within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as i snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma, – literally and truly, like the smell of spring violets; i declare to you, that for the time i lived as in a musky meadow; i forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, i washed my hands and my heart of it; i almost began to credit the old paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger: while bathing in that bath, i felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulance, or malice, of any sort whatsoever. amen.” – herman melville. by cm
