So here's the news:
Patti Smith's Just Kids is a wonderful if sometimes boringaspoop treatise on creating ones own world by attention to objects and spaces in order to counterbalance the massive momentum of the world's primary movement at a particular point.
Leslie Marmon Silko's Almanac of the Dead is the spiritual sister of 2666. You might oughta check it out.
I was in Pittsburgh last weekend with a friend who lives there with his wife and 8 year old son. It's something like Baltimore spread around and across three rivers and several hills. Similar energy of trying to salvage something whose potential is too great to give up but so far gone as to be painful to think about.
I'm watching heat shimmer above the chase that vents our gas heater. In fact it radiates for more than foot around the pipe before dispersing into the 29-degree winter day. Why aren't I resourceful enough to use that exhaust heat to heat the upstairs? Whiskey tango the fuck not?
I feel like I'll die with the undeciphered coin of some submerged continent in my pocket and it will be discarded with the trousers.
Ditto, mon frere. I'm asleep in here most of the time and so unmotivated by what I really SHOULD be doing that I'm doing basically nothing. At least Baltimore has that pathetic bumper sticker. What American city would you LIKE to be?
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