I Built a Little Empire out of Some Crazy Garbage Called the Blood of the Exploited Working Class
Not much to say. Went back to the show today and picked up three inexpensive prints that I will frame on my own. Spiffy limited edition lithos of mixed media watercolor and acyrlic originals by a woman whose work I really like... The three are of coffee cups on a theme, and I luff them. (side item: saw some photography work I'd missed the other day. ever feel like all you want to do is leave where you are... wherever that is?) Other issue for now: no good idea why I found Tristram Shandy confusing before.. I now find it utterly delightful. Maybe reading the introduction was a good thing after all (though the man's name would be better as folkenfilk than folkenflik.)
Ice cold tea with lemon
sweet cut grass and gasoline
crescent moon that shines at midnight
cools a sunburned afternoon.
to follow up on the entry title... but they've overcome their shyness, and they're callin me your highness... and the world screams "kiss me, son of god."
Ice cold tea with lemon
sweet cut grass and gasoline
crescent moon that shines at midnight
cools a sunburned afternoon.
to follow up on the entry title... but they've overcome their shyness, and they're callin me your highness... and the world screams "kiss me, son of god."