Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Before going to bed last night I switched my mp3 player to shuffle mode. Within secs, as usual, I was out, down, dead. At 7:30 (or thereabouts) this morning my dreams began to list; a flood of conspiratorial, sinister images converged. A rabid mob, a chorus of disapproval... What had I done? How might I escape? Other voices - some commenting upon the tumult - slashed across the narrative. I was tense, damp with perspiration... Then I realized I'd been listening to Suicide's 23 Minutes Over Brussels. Kee-rist! Another perfect day...
Hello, I wrote this nearly two days ago but it's fresh enough to still be news... "Not that it matters much in a world so riven...
KSV 409: Merkwürdig Riechnerv 's No Knife to Twist is available now for digital cogitation and limited-ed CD levitation via KSV Bandcam...
Day Eight. Matte essays into razor tabletop. While I read from sliced divination, re-describe third outlet... TS