Eve Sussman's stills.

...and here is my prized possession. my parents bought this at an auction in the '70s. i have taken the horse ribbon off. i need to have it reframed.

i've been swamped, but here are some things i like that i didn't photograph.

tonight, 7 PM at KGB: WOMEN WHO KILL, with author Ann Jones and Nation Editor Betsy Reed.

entertainment is limited over here. i finished ram dass' book, and painted my nails in honor of his good book design. i'd like to wallpaper my home with the brown paper pages from the book's center. i started karen armstrong's memoir, the spiral staircase. leek and potato soup is on the stove, i bought an electric beater today. i found wood sawhorses for robin, but i really went looking for a used copy of shirley maclaine's out on a limb. my quest involves reading about quests. i drove upstate this morning with my rabbit, who is still bitter about the commute. stay warm.

I'm reading Ram Dass's Be Here Now, now.
Now now.
Why didn't I take more drugs when I had the chance? I could have written a beautiful book in blue ink with brown paper bag-like pages, black ink stamped like potato prints.

oldies

C Isherwood, taking notes on Vivekanada’s sayings, My Guru and His Disciple:

“I am glad I was born, glad I suffered so, glad I did make big blunders, glad to enter peace. Behind my work was ambition, behind my love was personality, behind my purity was fear, behind my guidance the thirst for power. Now they are vanishing and I drift.

I hate this world, this dream, this horrible nightmare with its churches and chicaneries, its fair faces and false hearts, its howling righteousness on the surface and utter hollowness beneath, and, above all, its sanctified shopkeeping.

Let the barks of puppies not frighten you––no, not even the thunderbolts of heaven––but stand up and work.”

[can't remember source on this sock-cum-scarf...anyone know?]
objects i covet [I had to take down the boot with chains. I still lust, but the photo's size was assaulting my senses.]

My birthday is coming up and I wouldn't mind a civil war tent, for my secular revival--to be held this summer. Tambourines and gourd instruments!

Want to come with me to Nancy Brooks Brody's show?
Nancy's soap stack

Throwing Rocks at the Sun by David Horvitz

illustration from the Modern Love column last week.

Gabrielle Hamilton of the amazing Prune Restaurant read from her memoir, in progress. I wanted her to go on forever.

late night leather jacket french fry crew

Now I hate show-y off-y good looks, overly
Sexy landscapes. I like alleys.
Drug stores. A wood dairy queen spoon
In a mini paddle shape
Great lakes and good radio