Untitled Repetition (Aesthetic Ethical Religious)

I saw this picture up close in person in MPLS while gallavanting in confused, if well-intended, pursuit of something that continually slips past my fingers right when I clutch hardest.

Lawless, you are right, but no I did not become a Republican.

I am in the Siouxland Library and I have a fifteen allotment to get enough of what's in my head down here on this screen to prevent neural synapse constipation. Therefore please forgive typos.


I would like to play a game of basketball, or Texas Hold Em, with Michael Wilbon. I like it when his eyes get big as he makes exclamatory remarks.

The Minnesota Twins are a regular season tour de force and (I fear) a postseason 60 year old impotent man with a cleft palate and unstintingly strong BO.

The man at the cubicle next to mine alternates between a short, hard guffaw with a strange dipthong ending, and silent chuckling that shakes the entire computer cubicle structure at which I am sitting.

Movies are better than television. Kung Fu Hustle, Godfather 1 and 2, Mumford, all were consumed by eyes in the last day and a half.


This is all so hollow, isn't it? Fundamental conceptual rejiggering of Wounded Horsedness is on my to do list.