Sometimes, I read stuff…
Sometimes, I read stuff…
Sometimes, I read stuff…
twitt 97, 96, 95, 94
Back to Hell (read “work”), with no fallen angels or damned souls. Only the Boss, me, and the Guardian of the Keys, drinking mud puddle buzz
Staring at Harper’s mag with Crumb’s Monkey Wrench Gang comersh and an enigmatical phrase : “Looked at him, but couldn’t get a read on him”.
I noticed I was able to spell “Phoebe Legere” with eight keys on my laptop, then listened to Lois V. Vierk on roulette TV and it was boring.
I wanted a camera, the nikon SP, a legend. And as soon I got it, I knew I had to leave everything and everyone to roam the roads with tramps
Sometimes, I read stuff…
Sometimes, I read stuff…
twitt 93, 92
In Loden’s poem, Affidavit: “The time the FedEx driver knocked on the door”. Unfortunately (?) it was not mine. My book’s been stolen. Again
A flute, a mic, one mouth, then two. Beethoven’s hairdo, but no “serious” music. Just a “kiss”. Is it art? Sxip Shirey’s performance on TED.
Sometimes, I read stuff…
twitt 91, 90, 89, 88, 87, 86, 85, 84
Twelve hour long video conference on game theory. What am I suppose to learn? Don’t know (in fact I do, but keep it under my (non-kkk) hood)
Post by Assholeman on his pedofriend’s flickr blog. A conspicuously unintelligent mention about Doig that made me laugh? cry? Can’t remember
Played a “reversed chess” game with Judie. My black chessmen in front of her, whites ambushed on my side. So disturbing we ended with a pat.
Programming in Scheme while listening to Boards of Canada makes me a dull slave. Working on Impromptu to cook my own salad will free my ass.
Does reading John Stuart Mill’s “on liberty”, then watching “hot sluts” on web – a not so NSFW micro soap – mean I’m a schizophrenic weirdo?
When your daughters ask you to explain chaos theory in a tweet, it’s time to pack and go hitchhiking the wiki world like an “eSal_Paradise”.
Worst part of the year, when “cow-workers” overreact about summer. I prefer them tense, acting like beheaded hens, Ô my dysfunctional robots
Commuting in the morning heat, I tried Do Make Say Think on my miniDisk (no Ipod, Murakami!). Well, doesn’t work that good. Bad bike tempo.
