Le Doppelgänger

(This is my second post today, because I couldn’t resist. It’s small. The other one meatier.)

Here in Kane’s house I have found my Doppelgänger. The only trouble is I’ll never get to meet him and compare notes, because he died in 1877. Even so, what do you think?

Before

After

He was Gustave Courbet, 1819–1877, a French painter. I found him on the cover of a big book full of his paintings by the fireplace. I was transfixed.

This means we can expect that when I’m forty or so, I’ll look like this:

I fully intend to find a proper coat and take this picture at that time.

File under: irrelevancies, photos


Anonymous

History

All you needed to do was furrow your brow a lot in your picture and you are truly one and the same. As for looking like him at 40, let's hope the old baldness problem leaves you alone, or there might be a significant difference. Ha. I think your uncles are losing their hair, and that's your genetic heritage. Sorry. Grandma

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Anonymous

History

I believe your first book should be titled 'a Summer of interesting people' Start writing now while it is still fresh. G.Pa

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Anonymous

History

Now that I look at it more closely, I think also that the lighting is so different in the two pictures that that makes the comparison a little harder. Try a picture with the same lighting–it's freaky! Grandma

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Chuck

History

I had enough trouble getting a picture at all. I had to borrow the batteries from Kane's blipper to put in my camera, then borrow his microphone tripod to put my camera on (balanced precariously), then set the timer and get in the right position within ten seconds (and the position he's in is surprisingly hard to duplicate exactly). This is also why there are no pictures of NYC on this blog yet. In the whole time I've been here I've taken one, not counting the various shots I snapped trying to duplicate The Desperate Young Man here.

Grandpa—I'm already writing a short story right now (I've finally gotten on that task today). I bet a bunch of the people I've met here will end up here and there in my novels, though.

(Today I finally hit a stride in writing fiction. I never have any trouble writing in my journal or here, but up 'til today whenever I've tried to write my short story I've only seen a big blank page and produced tortured, crappy writing. But today I loosened my constraints by writing a scene that wasn't in chronological order, and it got me out of my rut. Finally!)

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Anonymous

History

Oops - never mind. It came back. Say, you haven't mentioned how you are surviving the heat wave. We're really hot here, and it's supposed to be worse in New York. We hope a cool front comes through tonight so we can go outside again without dying. Grandma

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Anonymous

History

Now it's sent that message twice. I tried to send another message but the old one was copied instead. In any case, your picture reappeared on the screen. And we want to know how you are surviving the heat wave– Grandma

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Chuck

History

The effect for me here is that your first comment (12:53) was doubled. Everything else came out once.

I've dealt with the heat wave by drinking lots and lots of water and not moving. I've also done a little complaining. That seems to have helped a little—it's not so hot today. I complained a couple days ago in my journal and thought I got a pretty good do on it: "In a heat like this everything feels alive. When I pick up a plate it feels like it must be respiring and metabolizing secretly somehow to bring it up to body heat. The countertop is a warm-blooded creature, and so is the book I put in my bag. All the edges are blurred and being alive isn't the sort of special it usually is; cruel weather like this makes a hug useless. I packed up my things and walked through air that felt, more than ever, like the collective breath of the millions breathing in this city, up to the subway station."

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Anonymous

History

We are leaving tomorrow morning for Crow Duck. And we will say hello to the fish for you, since you won't be there to catch them. But we'll be thinking of you off in the Big Apple. Later, Grandma

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