...cheeseburger in Paradise/ Heaven on the seventh onion slice....
From the Random Thoughts Department: Fear rhymes with beer, except in print.
From the Did You Really Want This Information Department: Peeling away are my badges of courage, the blisters I earned during my brief stint on trapeze. As emblems, I will miss them. As rough spots on hands, good riddance to snagging my silky underthings.
From the Completely Inexplicable Department: "I hate this nail polish, because it chips so easily, which is a shame because I love this nail polish."
"Why don't you get a good clear enamel to go over it?"
"You mean a top coat?"
"If that's what you call it, yeah. Wouldn't that help?"
Probably it would. Never thought I'd be taking manicure advice from a truck driver, though.
Breakfast for your brain: The Political Animal.
Rob Brezsny's been mindless pap lately. I'm considering cutting Horoscope from my roster. Keep it? Ditch it? Opinions welcomed here.
Emily Flake's cartoon, Lulu Eightball, which kills me. (The puns churn; ruthlessly, I tamp them down, knowing beyond doubt she's heard each one before until she's grinding molars into powder, as I do when I hear "Your place or mime?")
The Pain- When Will It End?. Have I mentioned his book? It's lovely, and has that excellent "new book" smell.
From The Pain archives. Sick? Yes, I laughed myself sick. I did.
Speaking of sick, a writer/actor/director has created a documentary that literally made him ill. City Paper's review of the movie.
The official movie site, for the film you've at least heard sound bytes about.
And premonitively, from March of 2001, Malcom Gladwell's The Trouble With Fries.
(Gladwell, one of my Writing Gods, has pulled me along on many a tangential path of obscure information. I now know why Hush Puppies made a comeback, and with what number of people one can maintain personal relationships.)
Others who rock my world include the author of Lamb, (The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal) which I've recommended to friends, who love it and recommend it to friends. Pretty soon, it will have swept the planet and changed the thinking of everyone on it. One hopes. I'd enjoy anything by Chris Moore, I imagine.
My writing has been referred to as "elliptic", which I looked up. Each of the multiple meanings might apply, but Closet Blonde still isn't sure if it's complimentary. Although, considering the source, it likely is. Unless he actually said "epileptic," in which case, I'd think not.
But while we're on the subject of punctuation, (this is an ellipse: ...) see An Open Letter To Umlaut.
Two words. Dave Eggers. Hear "Man-God" when you say it.
It's an anniversary of sorts for me today. I mark it, though I'm celebrating alone.