Eric Clipperton Strikes Again

1)
Happy marriage, newly married people. It is strange to think about how you and yours will celebrate out here in all this open space, but the Budweiser can you just threw out the window is probably one indication of how.


2)
I forgot how thoroughly depressing it is to be sick. And enraging – I want to spit fire at people in the aisles of the little grocery store I enter to buy Kleenex and the little bottle of stuff you shove up a nostril and squeeze to stop the tortuous, but also at the same time pretty innocuous drip that has taken over thought patterns. Anyway.


3)
New York Times Magazine is devoted to comedy this week, which devotion may or may not have been necessary. I listened to Blondie last night for the first time and once again discovered how much there is to discover. I’m ready to leave, and the world continues to thwart my desires. Yesterday I went to see the amish, who got a kick out of my current vehicular situation, which involves the driver’s side door being broken and me climbing in and out of the passenger door and vaulting over into the driver’s seat. They made good bread, the Amish, for which I paid $2. for some reason, when I think of Gore Vidal, who has a new book out, I think of a prostate exam. I’ve only read the one book about the Roman emperor. I have read these books since the Sickness (but not unto death) arrived: Radical Hope by Jonathan Lear, Blue Blood by [first name] Conlon and Bucking the Sun by Ivan Doig. The Village Voice informs me that the book Infinite jest came out a decade ago. And no, I don’t think jack johnson is anything to worry about.

4)
Call me sentimental, but I want Amare Stoudamire to succeed. And I want Barack Obama to sponsor a damn bill. i want another bucket of self-conflicted, sonically luxuriant not-averse-to-humor music with which to bathe myself.