Layla tov
Hrmmermermnimnomomnominosdqal.
Todo el mundo habla como no pueden oir nada. Battalia de los Locos.
Prisencolinensinainciusol.
Blah blah blah.
Blowing my writing gig I think. Oh, yeah, I have a writing gig. But I think I blew it/am in the process of blowing it. Go me.
Saw a girl lying in the street who had been hit by a car at Petit and Telephone. She didn't look good, sounded worse (once she started making sound). My lord, was it awful. Then saw the front of the PT Cruiser that hit her. Those people must have been flying. Bad bad badbadbadbadbadbadbad.
Painted two sides of a barn today. I'm on my way to becoming the man I always knew my brother could be. I like the rhythm of painting, though it can get boring. The largeness of the barn means large spaces to fill, so it's wide and free and eliminates a lot of the tedium. I can think (or not) and listen to music or the wind or whatever and I'm outside in the sun (when there's sun and no barnshadows). The people are Dutch. Jann builds off-road racing vehicles that have won national championships. I hear his name and think of a great gaping void inhaling and then exhaling deeply, shaking the planets in their rotations.
I'm thinking about learning the mandolin and become a wandering troubadour. Thoughts?
Hey, guess what?
: opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/03/l-a-consequential/
I guess it's not appropriate to listen to Coolio anymore when I go to the city? (Actually, I don't think it's been appropriate to listen to Coolio since ca. 1997, but whatever).
I am cold.
The end.
Todo el mundo habla como no pueden oir nada. Battalia de los Locos.
Prisencolinensinainciusol.
Blah blah blah.
Blowing my writing gig I think. Oh, yeah, I have a writing gig. But I think I blew it/am in the process of blowing it. Go me.
Saw a girl lying in the street who had been hit by a car at Petit and Telephone. She didn't look good, sounded worse (once she started making sound). My lord, was it awful. Then saw the front of the PT Cruiser that hit her. Those people must have been flying. Bad bad badbadbadbadbadbadbad.
Painted two sides of a barn today. I'm on my way to becoming the man I always knew my brother could be. I like the rhythm of painting, though it can get boring. The largeness of the barn means large spaces to fill, so it's wide and free and eliminates a lot of the tedium. I can think (or not) and listen to music or the wind or whatever and I'm outside in the sun (when there's sun and no barnshadows). The people are Dutch. Jann builds off-road racing vehicles that have won national championships. I hear his name and think of a great gaping void inhaling and then exhaling deeply, shaking the planets in their rotations.
I'm thinking about learning the mandolin and become a wandering troubadour. Thoughts?
Hey, guess what?
: opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/03/l-a-consequential/
I guess it's not appropriate to listen to Coolio anymore when I go to the city? (Actually, I don't think it's been appropriate to listen to Coolio since ca. 1997, but whatever).
I am cold.
The end.