Although I did not eat turkey, I spent today drowsing on the couch because it was cold and raining out and everything was shuttered.
Speaking of which, I think drudgerous would be a useful word to add to the English language: (Scooping my cat’s litter can be drudgerous.)
In other news, The New Yorker magazine is like an old flame: Every once in a while, we get back together. Meaning, I recently subscribed again. In lieu of flowers, I am expecting a free tote.
I am currently listening to Philip Glass. His glum composition Opening is playing as I type this. You will recall this piece if you’ve ever seen the 1982 film Koyaanisqatsi. Opening reminds me of a rainy night in New York City.
It also brings to mind the smell of the NYC subway. Not so much urniation or whatever else but just the dank odor of the underground combined with diesel.
I suppose today has been all in all quite melancholy (a very Dickens type of word).
i wanted to write this because i wanted to write something new on my blog without having it necessarily mean anything. as i’ve stated before, why does anything have to mean anything (also see my declaration against question marks and other punctuation and style formalities) i just want to be pleasant and conversational overall so fuck it (it brings me joy to omit a comma)
last night, if you care to know, i had a dream of a giant skeleton hurling thru the star-speckled universe with its mouth agape. it seems a popular facial expression for many skulls worldwide. it brought to mind birds parched in summer, in a desperate quest for water, like i see often here in vegas. regardless, after the skeleton came the projectile of flames and smoke, hot on my path, chasing me thru space like a bee protecting its hive have you ever wanted to kiss someone while they were speaking with you — you know those fleeting moments when you are overcome by adoration or lust. just a thought…
now that i see what i’ve done, all the words i have made here, now i would like to make this really long and meaningless. i find meaningless things are refreshing. i want to write poems about gum wrappers and empty coffee cups. i also seek out bad writing because it makes me happy and inspires me. these are people who have a literary voice without trying. like a baby picking up a paint brush and having at it on the canvas. have you ever watched an elephant paint. i’m finding that the best and most genuine art is regressive and primitive. see jean-michel basquiat for many, many examples.
i want to write in a sort of scribble. i genuinely feel it is closest to my truest literary voice. i strive for eloquent, conversational meaninglessness.