Wednesday, November 4, 2009

here / now / there


You know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk.
-- Tom Waits

Maybe constructing a universe out of pieces of parts from miniature golf courses was a bad idea. It seemed so efficient at the time: windmills, castles, toadstools, mountains, all scaled to the same perspective, all executed in the same color scheme, laying about the Universe Creation Warehouse in odd corners and heaps, left over or cast off after other projects, just waiting to be either melted or recycled or somehow integrated into another project.




reading
Written on the Body / Jeanette Winterson, which was lovely, until it was tedious

weather
tramping through leaves, crunching along the path