- Give us one day to say our peace.
- Second eye whiteness.
- No one gets out alive.
- Fair and square.
- Shutting Up: Day Seven.
- About Hollowtide: now that I've tuned it - please, look at the Fleabus photo (I am now Fleabus' official photographer) on header now there (though there will be a new header - or at least a different header - each new post, it's one of Hollowtide's attractions for me. But now the downhill - in blogging, as in hiking, I'd rather go uphill than down, knees-wise. But true: this may surprise you, but I'm remarkably unorganized and confuse tablets and otherwise poorly archive myself. I don't timestamp tablets, and I want a timestamp sometimes.Whether I'll ever need one and/or use one.... So it's more than the bibloggal mania.
- Speaking of that Fleabus photo - the camera on my iPhone is vastly superior to the the Canon I've used past couple of years, but I am unable to download content to my laptop because I haven't updated iTunes in at least three years. The last time I did it fucked up everything. Now, I know all my music is in the cloud, so I'm going to upgrade tonight - if you have any advice (including DON'T DO IT) please send along.
- Assuming the upgrades go smooth, I will order THIS to celebrate.
- >> BRT! <<
- The errant eye: on Pollock and fake Pollocks and how to tell the difference. After my relatives mock Rothko at a holiday table someone brings up Pollock, some dinners visa versa.
- Carnival theory.
- Lyrical knowledge.
- And I will consider the yellow dog.
- On C.D. Wright.
- This Heat interview. Songs:
It was a party
Built for the minuscule elite
Lost amid acres of scuffed marble, wanderers
Newspapers & schoolwork
To speak in surreal, mechanical hyperbole
Government, of course
Of relative luxury
I know what you want to ask
I want you to take the truth to the world
Down in the city, loudspeakers
Disappearing into a hidden gulag
The monks appeared
Every morning in the lobbies of our hotels
A minder was beside them
The monks followed us out into the parking lot