I'm in a Rube Goldberg machine, pushing the ball
that rolls down an incline to set off a spring,
& pulling the lever that opens a gate for the greyhound
that catches a rabbit; & at the same time i am trying
to weave a rope for a ladder to escape out the window
of my prison that is only open one day a year, & also
in the process of composing an anthem to the saucer
gods who are not going to come & rescue me in time
anyway.

Bird call audio files.

In a letter that Sulfur published i once argued that Ashbery was no sort of
Surrealist, but a great nonsense poet...

After reading Tuva or Bust! about the physicist Feynman's obsession with
the philatelic but obscure & short-lived Asian country of Tannu Tuva, i briefly
joined the Friends of Tuva. I never actually contemplated going there,
but the CD of Tuvan music i bought remains one of the more significant musical
discoveries of my life.

Listening to: Katell Keining.