Today's excuse is that every material object (they fill the bed of a medium-sized pick-up truck) left in the possession of this typist has been been humped from a friend's black widow-infested garage (No web thanks to her, as she claims never to read this or anyone else's typing, so why bother?) & piled on the pseudo-gentrified 70 yr.-old darkly stained hardwood floor. (Have we mentioned that before? We're trying to look at the positive aspects of existing where POW! POW! POW! POW! POW! — five rounds, or could've been M-80s or Seal Testers, we weren't about to investigate — went off in what sounded like the lobby — mere feet away, could have been in the street — of our our new digs about 0340 today.) Meaning nostalgia sorting through the crap, & killing any potential spiders. Could be a while. We're obsessively precise, if "precise" means slow. Mix w/ this dial-up business (not exactly whipping the muse into whipping us into a frenzy, if you follow) long unheard music, & the glass teat itself
to while away the agony of existence, & there's little likelihood of reading anything new or interesting from here (Don't say it!) for a while, barring of course "live-blogging" any typical SoCal natural disaster as long as the battery on the presses here holds out.
to while away the agony of existence, & there's little likelihood of reading anything new or interesting from here (Don't say it!) for a while, barring of course "live-blogging" any typical SoCal natural disaster as long as the battery on the presses here holds out.On the third-world attaché case as we type: The Best of Sonny Rollins The Blue Note Years.
Extra special thanks to long-time friend/creative associate Mr. Peabody for invaluable material assistance in humping garbage bags full of T-shirts & the like. (Including renting that medium-sized pick-up & driving it to hell & back, Audie Murphy-stylee, mon!) Big ups, as the kewl colored kidz say!
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