Pocket music box
Departing words. The very last things people have heard me say.
I compose strange lists when I can’t get to sleep.
Cleaning a fan is immensely satisfying. You realize how something so inconsequential as a little film of dust can completely alter its working properties.
I went to a concert featuring a visiting Welsh musician who played a great number of traditional tunes, none of which I’ve ever heard, all of them hauntingly familiar. Is genetic memory really so powerful?
This week I’m captivated by videos of pinstriping artists. I want to pinstripe everything.
1. I think I have a more obstinate view regarding what is “orange” and what constitutes “yellow” than most people. School buses are orange. Maybe I see anything other than pure primary yellow as orange. Any admixture involving red disqualifies it for me. This instituted a lengthy argument about color theory.
2. It’s really hard to recycle a broken plastic recycling box. No collection worker wants to make that mistake, I guess.
3. I feel like the Incredible Hulk today (as inked by Sal Buscema).
Yes yes, I’d love to make everyone ukuleles, but they have about $80 worth of stuff in them and they take about two working days to make!
Ain’t nobody got time (or money) for that.