Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A splendid, nonsensical dream montage this morning... Martin Scorcese and I were discussing our mutual appreciation for "the second, second and third, well, mostly the second, but the third had its moments, yeah, the fourth kind of jumped the shark, but the second, wow" of Dennis Leary's Rescue Me - all the excited stammering was intact. Then I crossed over into a rehearsal stage where Planet Mu's Mike Paradinas was looking extremely pasty. We chatted amiably about something -- the peripheral particulars have already faded from memory -- and then I ducked out the exit and was on South Brookside, the tree-lined avenue which leads from East 4th and the Nashville Highway to Don Fleming's parents' home on the right, and my folks' semi-detached manse on the left. I loped along, peering through the pines into picture windows obscured by Christmas kitsch. The house before the Burgdorfs' was now occupied by Ice Cube, and he bade me to take a gander at his newest animated t-shirt (three blue curved forms which coalesced into a booty dancer's fine be-hind). A dog leapt up, licked my nose, and I awoke. Claudia was astride me, tweaking my schnoz with cold fingers, smiling broadly as Adel receded...
Healing apace, can't complain. We finally got round to watching Ingrid Goes West . Brutal, hilarious, brilliant. TS
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