We were at a party & someone just sat down at the
piano & started playing the most amazing, intricate
flowing piano piece i had just about ever heard. "Is
that Debussy?" i whispered. "Ravel," i was told. "Jet
D'eau."

Found an old paperback in one of our stores that seemed
to be an amazing story: Sally Trench's Bury Me in My Boots,
about her work in the late 60's with homeless people. When
i googled for her name to find out more, i discovered she was
still helping people thirty years later--in Bosnia. Who says
there are no more heroes?
[Oh yeah--she was blinded by a thrown bottle at 22.]

Listening to: Miles Davis, Kind of Blue.

"Investigation of the Royal Massacre"

The desert's share of elves
Alluringly recedes, a highway night
Disclosed in orbs that flicker, hover, melt
And leaving, jab with knives:
The desert's share of elves.

The thievish dealer says
One day you too shall vanquish with the moth;
Anything to lose this daily death.
You hazard it, because
The thievish dealer says.

The desert's share of elves,
The thievish dealer says,
Is more yours with the fading felth.

06 09 01

I'm not disingenuous about Antiwar.com's politics--nobody hates
the neocons like an old-time conservative--but when i read ol'
Justin Raimondo defending Ann Coulter's defence of Joe McCarthy, my head kind of spins--
& then i giggle.

Economic Lysenkoism (long, technical). (via Counterpunch)