You Are Not Reading This

This is a pseudo-post, on a pseudo-blog...you are having an unreal experience...

as am I...

or I feel that way--

having seemingly abandoned my online scribal avocation...but dammit, buying a house is a lot of damn work. In addition to work-work, which is underway again with a vengeance, after my idyllick June of irresposibility. And I'm finding ways to add chaos to the chaos, for that is my Way.

For example, I'm DJing on the local alternative radio station again, which, though time-consuming, is just pure bliss. I played "Institutionalized" by Suicidal Tendencies the other day, which most of the listeners (it's a pretty young crowd) will be too young to remember, and annouced it as "the national anthem of my generation." Just being there at the board, putting together an unexpected, nearly-random yet still sonically logical progression of tunes--is so wonderful. And those big old speakers blasting out "you're trying to say I'm crazy? when I went to your schools, your churches--"

[nota bene: I do also play music recorded in this millennium. quite a bit of it...tho at this moment my heart is in 1991...I'm listening to 8-Way Santa by Tad, one of the great lost albums, a mini-epic of rural pharmacological madness...]

I was supposed to be working on a 4th Step this weekend, but have partied instead...watching the Thief in the Night movies, reading various trivial magazines, drinkin' Rebel Yell, listenin' to Little Feat--this isn't "local color," this is my life, Mr. Hollywood Fancy Pants!!!! [ :) hi, grigorss.]... here in East Podunk, about to relocate to The Town So Ominously Country I Haven't Been Able to Contrive a Sarcastic Name for It Yet (my new house--I chose the one w/ the pool--is in the town where I work)...

so, I have not become an ex-blogger, just a desultory one. Laura and I work apace on the Paris plan...I read this hysterical (in all senses of the term) article in the NY Times about the Museé de Quai Branly and decided that it alone would be worth the trip...I'm insisting on a meal at Taillevent, Laura says "whatever," and we're looking at accommodations near Saint-Sulpice, not for the Da Vinci Code connection but because it's relatively cheap and it's close to lots of good stuff.

And that, mes amis, is the news from Lake Choronzonbegone, where the coffee is strong, the womyn are too, and the temperature is unseasonably below average (thank Goddess).