one thing today

  Maryanne Faithful died today. She was very beautiful in her younger days. She was Mick J's girlfriend who sang  As Tears Goes By. She was an actress, a homeless heroin addict, an 80s rock star, an international spoken word grand dame in her final years. She reminded me of my best friend Sak back in the day. Her haunting album round '79,  Broken English, was a big hit and played and played in gay clubs here for years and years ... every time I see your dick I see her cunt in my bed.  Pop goes transgressive. They don't make 'em like her anymore. They should. 

  ... can do anything - electrical, plumbing, carpentry ... you name it, he does it. splendidly, willingly, unassumingly. nice. above isn't an upscale mousehole.  it's a kittly litter door and displays his ingenuity and thoughtfulness. he bordered the entry and exit with an arc of bristly brush so the lucky felines can groom themselves and catch a  cheap thrill at the same time. we should all be so creative in our willingness to be of service to others. 

  There must be a Swedish or German word for the feeling you get when you move into a new place. I felt it immediately when I walked thru the door here … in rooms that invite the empire state in in all its iconic glory all day everyday. It was the same feeling I had when I first moved to my hovel when I was 22. and then again and once again and again. until now. There's gotta be some word that means fresh, bright, full of future detail and not yet written tales of woe as well as wonderment. Who knows where the time went and will go?    

Back in 1957 We had to dance a foot apart And they hawk-eyed us from the sidelines Holding their rulers without a heart And so with just a touch of our fingers oh we could make our circuitry explode All we ever wanted Was just to come in from the cold We really thought we had a purpose We were so anxious to achieve We had hope The world held promise For a slave to liberty Freely I slaved away for something better And I was bought and sold And all I ever wanted Was to come in from the cold I feel your leg under the table Leaning into mine I feel renewed I feel disabled By these bonfires in my spine I don't know who the arsonist was Which incendiary soul But all I ever wanted Was just to come in from the cold I am not some stone commission Like a statue in a park I am flesh and blood and vision I am howling in the dark Long blue shadows of the jackals Are falling on a pay phone by the road Oh, all they ever wanted Was just to come in from the cold Is this just vulgar electricity Is t...

Three many doubts a million to one  Unfinished business Undeserved  fun Sound swells Silence too No laughs   Empty zoo   Days die Flowers curl Sweeps of weeks Time turns sly   And we stay here Year after year Tear after tear mildly wildly  quiet

... was a small-town portrait photographer who documented rural life in the American south between 1930 and 1959.  Disfarmer was not a social individual and little is known about his life. He was born Mike Meyer in Indiana and moved to Arkansas with his parents in the late 1800s. After his father died in 1914, he moved with his mother to Heber Springs, where he constructed a photography studio on the back porch of their house. Around 1930, a tornado killed his mother and destroyed their house. He built a new studio on Main Street and established himself as the town photographer. He kept to himself and was considered eccentric. 

.... did it take them so long to put plastic wheels on luggage? ...  did it take us so long to stop calling it the master bedroom?  ...  did they make a Sixties TV comedy about Nazis? ...  did it take until 1972 to do closed captioning (The French Chef)? ...  was a ventriloquist a huge success on the radio in the Thirties?

  ...  in Dinner at Eight where Jean Harlow stops Marie Dressler dead in her tracks because she says  ... I'm reading this book about in the future machines will replace all human work. Dressler comments ...  that's something you'll never have to worry about my dear.  Dressler reminds me of a fat Mrs. Clare who corralled eight kids in our neighborhood. She never wore pants and her stockings always had runs in them.  She had a blithe demeanor and thought my mom was a tight ass.  Mom thought Rita was an under achieved homemaker. Objectively speaking, they were both spot on.  The Clares had dogs and cats and a house that always had kids of all ages running around making their place more crazy, loud, messy, crowded, fun. 

  ... is a complex tic that involves the involuntary utterance of obscene words or phrases. It's a symptom of Tourette syndrome, but only affects about 1 in 10 people with the condition.  I watched the premiere of a show call Baylen Out Loud . She is 21, pretty, smart with four cool brothers and a very protective sister. Her parents are lovely, worried, good looking, full tilt accepting. She has a great bf who is unbelievably caring and light. He never phones it in. I envy the family  .

 ... this is how I felt yesterday. my first self portrait and, sadly, there's a somewhat strong likeness.  

I cried this afternoon watching Dylan at Newport ’63 thru ’65 - and I’m not sure why. Not sure which why I should say. So much time passing. So many beautiful words. Gone sharing faces and places connected to them. The clarity, simplicity, superlativity of the art. Him young and smart and rare. Striking of the guardians and protectors of the minds and new mornings and wild cathedral evenings. His mouth harp. Wonder. What’s to come. Outlaws chained and cheated by pursuits. This now pancake world of ours full of weakening freedom flashing - less and less, sky falling dark dim. Every word pouring out of his lips is scapel sharp and heard and has perfect right to be. He’s proud of them and shares them with everyone who wants them. Ancient empty streets too dead for dreaming, stripped senses, boot heels wandering, dancing spells, no fences facing - exciting future life just ahead and ready for everyone.  O more than half century if only musings.  

  January Robert Bridges 1844 – 1930 Cold is the winter day, misty and dark:    The sunless sky with faded gleams is rent: And patches of thin snow outlying, mark    The landscape with a drear disfigurement. The trees their mournful branches lift aloft:    The oak with knotty twigs is full of trust, With bud-thronged bough the cherry in the croft;    The chestnut holds her gluey knops upthrust. No birds sing, but the starling chaps his bill    And chatters mockingly; the newborn lambs Within their strawbuilt fold beneath the hill    Answer with plaintive cry their bleating dams. Their voices melt in welcome dreams of spring,    Green grass and leafy trees and sunny skies: My fancy decks the woods, the thrushes sing,     Meadows are gay, bees hum and scents arise. And God the Maker doth my heart grow bold    To praise wintry works not understood, Who all the worlds and ages doth behold,   ...

I love how stupid the Golden Globes are. Zoe Saldana cries desert dry conceptual tears.   Women look more bulimic than ever.   Successions Jeremy Strong wore the most ree dick mint green felt bucket hat above his ree dick mint green suit. He’s all over the Internet but I can’t ... sigh ... copy all the ree dick pics for you here. Catherine O Hara and Seth Rogan for some bad reason agreed to do three mins of ree dick stand up. Jodie Foster was pure intelligent class. Harrison Ford again looks like his staggeringly bored self. Winners walk by texting folks as they approach the stage. Talk about bouncing back. Harvey Weinsteins x wife is now Aiden Brodys baby doll. Baby Reindeers creator really received 41,000 emails from his very real stalker.  

                   Make me one with everything 

  A "late-cycle expansion" refers to the mature phase of an economic gain within the business cycle, where the economy has been growing for a significant period, but growth is starting to slow down, and signs of a potential recession are emerging.