shaken & stirred

welcome to my martini glass


Hmm... I wonder what it says about me that the e-mail solicitation for the Best Porn on the Web at "Bang Bus" just makes me wonder what the buses look like? Surely something good. I think a site of just provocative bus photos would be wonderful, sans homo sapiens specimens.

I must warn you all that I've been slightly discombobulated all day, so much so at times that a discussion about whether "crotch pants" could serve as a synonym for "loincloth" or in fact was a word at all. Of course, it's hard to talk when you are laughing that hard, but these things are important. Syntax is important.

When we got home, Christopher typed and printed a letter to George, complete with addressed envelope to George Rowe the Dog and slipped it underneath the door. Then said to me, what's that? Mr. Rowe accepted the invitation to go for a walk later in the afternoon.

The new Calexico album is freaking unbelievably awesome and makes me want to write a movie just so it can be the soundtrack. It's even better if you get it in the new used section for less than 10 bucks, and even a free beer and cookie too, because it's Anniversary Sale Day at the record shop. Yippee.

We saw "Bowling for Columbine" with Joe S.S. (who's been making all the internet comments discussions as "you know, that bald guy, the nice one" ever since ICFA) on Saturday night at the Kentucky. Very pleasant and the audience was suitably into it. I thought it wonderful that of the Oscar movies, the Kentucky chose to play that one and "Spirited Away" this week. And they still have the unbelievably heartbreakingly awesome "City of God" about Brazilian street gangs, which I never really got around to talking about here. It's unflinching and honest and just amazing. See it when you get a chance -- the more you think about it, the more you'll like it.

George is dreaming right now, in that way dogs sometimes have, where they remember how to talk and how to run through clouds. Like parasomniacs in the mad thrall of night, only far less violent and much cuter.

A full few days and I'm uncognizant of much news, blissfully so, to be honest. The laundromat is where the real survival of the fittest struggles go on. You can't even read the "Thrilling Tales Treasury" (success!), or you'll miss something important and vital to having dry clothes. And clean ones. Girls with ponytails seem to fare the worst, as they expect some special kindness to their lacy things; they learn the hard way, the hard lesson of life: "Honey, if your shit is in my way for no reason, I'm just going to dump it in the floor." Mondays are no-smoking days; we didn't know.

A weekend of pleasant contacts with people long out of touch (too long), or just out of sight. Coherence to follow.

That is all for tonight, I think. Good evening. We hope you had a pleasant stay.


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