Wednesday, July 28, 2010

In my dreams, I'm running from

the fuzz, laughing and knocking down fruit stands.

This song is playing:



I am not an entirely happy criminal,
but only because I am winning.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Thanks for including that post below.

I just heard this on the radio and will throw it into our crowd:

Thoreau, ahem,

Just so hollow and ineffectual, for the most part, is our ordinary conversation. Surface meets surface. When our life ceases to be inward and private, conversation degenerates into mere gossip. We rarely meet a man who can tell us any news which he has not read in a newspaper, or been told by his neighbor; and, for the most part, the only difference between us and our fellow is that he has seen the newspaper, or been out to tea, and we have not. In proportion as our inward life fails, we go more constantly and desperately to the post-office. You may depend on it, that the poor fellow who walks away with the greatest number of letters, proud of his extensive correspondence, has not heard from himself this long while. (LWP)

Friday, July 23, 2010

White Man

"Behold, a Rooftop Drinker."
Blue Man

"Sometimes a Rooftop Drinker Gets Hungry."

Monday, July 19, 2010

Stashing on the Mustache Pile

I have egg on my face.

I actually looked this up.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Dubus'

Meditiations from a Moving Chair

is BEATING my heart

back into shape--

How it got out of shape

could fill ten books, twenty.

I'm going to try to put it into one

and call it The Baseball Wars

and try to walk easy again

in the scented summer air.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

One Beaut from Lee Bontecou

MT: What do you want them to take away?

LB: Their own thoughts, I guess, and their own feelings about it. Out in LA they were seeing something in themselves and they thanked me for maybe helping them to see something. It was the best. Not "How did you do this?" or "How did you do that?" but just something they had gleaned from themselves. Everybody has a different take on everything. I've had people come and say, "I didn't see that as foreboding. I saw it as something really funny." That was their view. Something inside their life--I don't know what it was, but it was good.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Me, I was a victim of the ice cream truck wars.

You, you should know that.

Two Beauts from _The Friends of Eddie Coyle_

“Now the only grand jury I know about is the DA’s, and that’s about the Polack hit and they got that other fellow there, I hear, Stradniki, Stradnowski?”

“Stravinki,” Waters said, “Jimmy the Whale.”

“The Polack,” Foley said, “yeah, him. They got the other Polack.”

_____________________

“He didn’t show up,” Foley said. “I sit there for about half an hour, and I have a cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee. Jesus, I forgot how bad a thing a chesse sandwich is to eat. It’s just like eating a piece of linoleum, you know?”

“You got to put mayonnaise on it,” Waters said. “It’s never going to have any flavor at all unless you put some mayonnaise on the bread before you put the cheese on.”

“I never heard of that,” Foley said. “You put it on the outside, do you?”

“Nah,” Waters said, “you put it on the inside. You still put the butter on the outside and all. But when the cheese melts, there, it’s the mayonnaise that gives it the flavor. You got to use real mayonnaise, though, the stuff with eggs in it. You can use the other stuff that most people use when they say they’re using mayonnaise, that salad dressing stuff, you can use it. But it isn’t going to taste the same. I think the other stuff scalds or something. It doesn’t taste right, anyway.”

“They don’t go for those refinements in the Rexall’s anyway,” Foley said. “What the hell, you go in there and order a cheese sandwich, they got a whole stack of them, already made up, probably since last Wednesday, and they take out one of them goddamned things, big fat piece of this orange cheese in it, and throw on some grease, they pretend it’s butter but I sure don’t believe that, and then they go and they fuse it all together with a hot press there. My stomach’s still trying to break that thing down into something I can live on, just like a big piece, two big pieces, of bathroom tile with some mastic in between. Served hot. I get sick, you’re gonna have to give me a pension.”