Make Directory Name With Quotes

James O. Incandenza - A Filmography The following listing is as complete as we can make it. Because the twelve years of Incadenza'a directorial activity also coincided with large shifts in film venue - from public art cinemas, to VCR-capable magnetic recordings, to InterLace TelEntertainment laser dissemination and reviewable storage disk laser cartridges - and because Incadenza's output itself comprises industrial, documentary, conceptual, advertorial, technical, parodic, dramatic non-commercial, nondramatic ('anti-confluential') noncommercial, nondramatic commercial, and dramatic commercial works, this filmmaker's career presents substantive archival challenges. These challenges are also compounded by the fact that, first, for conceptual reasons, Incadenza eschewed both L. of C. registration and formal dating until the advent of Subsidized Time, secondly, that his output increased steadily until during the last years of his life Incadenza often had several works in production at the same time, thirdly, that his production company was privately owned and underwent at least four different changes of corporate name, and lastly that certain of his high-conceptual projects' agendas required that they be titled and subjected to critique but never filmed, making their status as film subject to controversy.

Perhaps the Hungarian humorist Ferencz Karinthy captures the spirit of the situation best in a tableau about a bored businessman who amuses himself by looking through high-powered binoculars from his office high in a skyscraper into neighbouring office rooms. On one occasion he spies a middle-aged executive chasing a comely secretary around his desk. As it happens the observers knows the building in which this drama is taking place and can even make out the name of the occupant from the plaque on his desk. He consults the telephone directory and gives the culprit, who is still trying to force his attentions on the secretary, a ring. When the culprit answers the telephone the observer announces himself as God Almighty and tells him to stop molesting the young woman in his employ. The culprit, thunderstruck and unable to account fo the observer's exact knowledge of what has been going on, fall son his knees in a paroxysm of fear and wonder and begs forgiveness. The observer roundly berates the culprit who swears he will do anything to make amends and promises never to sin again. Hereupon the observer informs the culprit that he can indeed make amends by lending him 100 pengo [dollars]. The answer, of course is a burst of profanity and the abrupt termination of the call. Karinthy then draws his moral: if you want to play God don't try to borrow money...

The following afternoon Frank and Joe left school at one o’clock. They stopped at their house to get Afron’s address from Aunt Gertrude, then drove to the airport. Two hours later their plane was touching down at LaGuardia Field. After riding to the East Side Air Terminal in Manhattan, the brothers walked to Forty-second Street and caught a crosstown bus. “Wonder if we should have phoned first to make sure Afron’s in,” Joe murmured. Frank shook his head. “Better to catch him off-guard, I’d say. Then if he does know anything about Batter or the gang, he’ll have no time to cover up, or invent a story.” They got off the bus at the Avenue of the Americas and walked quickly to their destination in the West Forties. The address proved to be a small, grimy-looking office building. “Not a very classy place for a wealthy decorator to have his studio,” Joe said in surprise. Inside, they consulted the wall directory, listing the firms with offices in the building. Afron’s name was not among them. Frank turned to the uniformed elevator dispatcher who was standing nearby at his post in the lobby. “Could you tell us the office number of Afron Business Décor, please?” “Afron Business Décor?” The dispatcher frowned and shrugged. “Never heard of it. There’s no such outfit in this building.

It wasn’t much of a display. But he’d never been one for big displays of affection. He’d tried before, he’d just never been able to do it. And yet right now, with this little achromo, he wanted to make those gills shake so hard she’d feel the wind of them on her face. “Do I?” she asked, her tone amused and her gaze never moving from his. “Yours are entirely black.” “I know.” “I thought there would be some color in them.” What was he supposed to say to that? He already felt like an idiot talking about her eyes. But then he leaned forward and he could smell her. The soft scent of her, like the warmth of the sun after a storm. Electric and heated. “You smell so good,” he muttered, his eyes drifting shut as he told himself not to put his head back down. “I’m sorry I touched your breasts.” She made a choked sound, and when he looked back at her, she was bright red. Even the tips of her ears seemed to burn with some emotion he couldn’t name. But he was quite certain it was his favorite color on her. “Get up.” She struggled underneath him, and he released her. “The cabinet I just pulled out should have a directory in it, and then I can get to the office and find that damned key.” “I said I was sorry.” “I heard you,” she muttered, those ears somehow turning even deeper red. “Just... Help me find the key.