Thursday, October 29, 2009

because they can

mouse clicks are the new bell or so the swedes will have us think.

what does your dog do when you're not at home?

thanks agencyspy.

Friday, October 23, 2009

october 6th, 2009 - first covenant

Steve has been struck and diagnosed. His recovery consumed by waiting. Thankfully, there are one or two messengers here with their fixed gear bikes. Having been through treatment eleven times, Steve is looking for this time to be supplemented by suffixes. He wants this time to be gooder, he feels borned again.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

herta muller hits the literary lotto

"who, with the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose, depicts the landscape of the dispossessed."
She is your 2009 Noble Laureate for Literature.

Ladbrokes didn't have her making the race, via Literary Saloon. Evidence yet again that the oppressed always come out on top. Lucky bitch with her multi-lingual alacrity to ire fucking torturers. Fsh. But its not exactly Oprah's book club is it, huh Herta?

Laterally, someone please load a shotgun and lead Joyce Carol Oates around the stable. If your most well-known work is remarkable in that the adaptation of it to film provided Angelina Jolie with her first long-term lesbian relationship, no one (including Ladbrokes) should encourage aspirations of carving into pate with Pynchon.

List of all 2009 Nobel Laureates

a revelation!




does that make his poop the pot of gold?

thank you loltatz

august 5th, 2009 - SMH

"Can you speak more about that?" he leads, nudging with his eyebrows. She's drifted again, sucking on her dental bridge and lost in a ziploc bag of tobacco. "Diane. You said it's better than before...?"

Diane is worrying her rolled cigarette into dust. Muttering that she should never have accepted the Persian rug. She has spoken of little else in group the past two weeks, the thought of cleaning it and destroying a hidden stash. The stash she'll need when her daughter visits. The stash she's sure must still be there.

"Diane..." he exhales again, studying a crack of sleep on the tip of his middle finger.

"There were several befores. Which one do you want me to address?" she relents, breaking character into certain lucidity.