if you get through this post, there's fine phono at the finish

and being a wednesday evening, i sit electrified by the hum of my heart and the flash of black and white in my mind's eye: chasing that ball keeps the air moving through me, and a smile beneath my brow.

awoke, bathed by my inferno, to the tighty-whitied figure of the newly minted master, and we hastily departed to enter the (blessed) cold that would lead us to goaty commie goodness. and then i sat, immersed in words about words, with tea that got cold, and my eyes surely bright, till the sun was high.

spoke (always a blur) to my crazy(est) friend - d, who will build a world, who taught me to give life and then a hot-oven death to yeast, who once made my heart beat a little faster. he's crossed back to the coast that made him, and i'm pleased to be anticipating a visit soon. these limestoned streets feel emptier without his big hair, wild eyes, and generous smile. and i'd like to tell him all about all sorts of things - he'll like the forays into ancient times, and the thunder of 5,000 years of the written world, and he'll indulge my half-cocked conjecture on the meaning of it all today.

spoke to the other crazy: sleepy, ice explorer, acrobat among cons(on)ants, who dazzles me with his love of life-close-to-death-worth-living. but he was tired: "bonne nuit."

and then when all i wanted was to speak to you (me?), another call, that i'd rather have left for the machine with the blinking red light. sometimes the faster blinking ("i'm full!") is more satisfying than the exchange of words. i'm probably being someone else - for why else would such a thing be true?

highly recommended by master bull: morning becomes eclectic, fine musical treats.