I’ve had one of my old NYU friends visiting. I brought her back from the sea as a matter of fact, so she has been here awhile. She’s leaving tomorrow. I will miss her. If it weren’t for her tendency to ridicule those who wear last years shoes and read last years books — I had copy of Chronic City on the table, and pair of Giuseppe Zanotti low heel slide mules from 2009 on my feet, and she was appalled — I’d miss her even more.

I have read Dancing in the Dark: A Cultural History of the Great Depression. If you are contemplating reading about that desolate time this is the book for you. It’s like that  huge piece of Tiramisu, almost too much good stuff.

I’ve listened to, and seen a band of old men playing Hey Joe in the back of a brewery. They were close to awesome.

I wish I had more for you, but I’ve been dealing with a close encounter crisis. I’m caring for a panic stricken crazy person friend who drove over here earlier this evening. This friend practices something called transcendental meditation. She goes to TM meetings weekly, is more or less in training — as she tells it. This poor creature had been meditating at home, like she does every night, when she apparently went into a deep trance. She had what she said was an out of body experience, was floating above her body, and could see herself on the side of her bed and she couldn’t get back.

Despite this whole situation sounding to me as if she fell asleep and had a dream from which she couldn’t initially wake up, I couldn’t dissuade her. She insists it was something much more insidious, the reaper around the corner, death on her doorstep. Whatever it was she has to stay here the night because she doesn’t want to be alone.

I will miss the gin and tonic that Ive just drained. You can’t blame me really, considering the company I am keeping.

Peace, from a reaper deterrent wearing last years mules.

Wonderland or Not.

I only have to look to breaking local news to verify the extreme heat is not in my head. No, I don’t mean Robert Byrd being admitted to the hospital for symptoms of heat exhaustion and severe dehydration. I mean the reported spontaneous combustion of a dead plant in a hanging planter that was blamed for a fire that caused damage estimated at $3,000 to a townhouse here. I had no idea a dead plant could explode.

Anyhow, I’ll be back as the weather cools.

Peace

Wonderland or Not.

Despite Chelsea Handler’s literary masterpieces — Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, Are You There Vodka It’s Me Chelsea, and My Horizontal Life — all being on the NYT Bestseller list this week, none of those fine works are a “have read” for me on this Have Read (Seen, Listened To, Will Miss), Friday.

Instead, I have read, for the first time (from the great admirer of Anglo-Saxonism, H.P, Lovecraft), The Dunwich Horror and The Thing on the Doorstep, both on line in this nifty little collection. I’ve read Laura Bush’s book, but only as a toilet read. It’s not a have read yet. I also read a very long email attachment from a friend, more like a dissertation really. Actually it was her dissertation, she tricked me.

I have seen, Iron Man. I finally gave in, for my love of RDJ. It was not a go againer, but it was worth it just to see Mickey Rourke’s spectacularly silver filled mouth.

I have finally listened to Nobody’s Daughter, seriously folks it isn’t that bad. Disappointingly of course it is no different than what Hole has ever done , but it certainly isn’t horrible.
Also listened to Interpol’s, Lights. [See post to listen to audio]

Last but not least I will miss being the age I am, because on Monday I’ll be a different age.

Peace

Wonderland or Not.