- Infinite Jest, p 394. Click, yo. I spend too much time in the woods to think rocks don't have lives. I was first sheepishly incapable of subject object subject before defiantly incapable of subject object subject, but things have rights too.
- The Defense of Europe and in the unlivable land.
- The global architecture of wealth extraction.
- Why doesn't anyone ever mention what a motherfucking moron Hillary Clinton is? It's entirely possible she's as dumb as she is mendacious.
- How to be POTUS for Dummies.
- The Masochist's Coffee Pot.
- Yesterday and today I have been and will be at an HR seminar on management skills. One of the two Billy Mays selling product reminds me of my Aunt Hattie. I'm sitting at a table w a friend who distressingly DIGS! this advertisement, a former peer now supervisor who stated on introduction she is at seminar to learn how to supervise former peers, and two colleagues from tech services who seem good souls for the fuck I know but who I've never and would never reveal my defiant incapability at subject object subject explanations for my management of thralls success.
- What if they held a massive document leak and nobody came?
- I won't finish Infinite Jest for months - no time, bad eyes, my C.D. Wright obsession, the new/last thing, woowee - but if I finished Infinite Jest tonight the novel my head tells me I start tomorrow is Karamazov, just to see what happens.
- And it all comes back. Billy Mays and Billy Mays ham a scene that makes me remember a key rationale for my laziness and ambitious lack of ambition.
- Alice Coltrane.
- Fell asleep listening to, woke up with Coil in my head.
IN A WORD, A WORLD
I know the adjective can be a nuisance, and the adverb clumsy. I am a touch sick of the poetic inflation around prepositions. I would prefer that conjunctions were less visibly functional. Articles can clutter. The verb works the hardest. It should be the best paid. And I know the fifteenth letter O is the best of all: O my black frying pan. O my fallen arches. O my degenerating fibroids. O what's the point. O little man at the foot of my bed, please don't steal my pillow.