Oscar Wilde was editor of Woman’s World magazine, 1887-89. He also championed conventional attire for men.
John Lennon wore white. Fashion magazines will sometimes run his pic.
During an interview, a tidily dressed David Bowie did a good rendition of Lennon, voice-wise. It was abrupt but went over well.
Allen Ginsberg played finger cymbals and wore black. Ginsberg had a knack for mantra, and children loved him.
Was William Carlos Williams swallowed up by the forest? (The doctor chuckles as he sinks into the white beyond.) Maybe it was a happy death? Continue reading
I like drowsing as a word:
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 am reminded of Bowie today as I walk about in mismatched spa socks. Wear clashing articles of clothing to work day should be a thing. At my job they have different themes for dressing down: They had one recently with go as your personal hero day. Which would be perfectly appropriate for me: my two different species worn with my blue genus.