Lung, (alois), is a local photography god. He’s just come back from China and Vietnam, bringing enchanting goodies home. Sincerely I say, go look at him. His photography journal is well worth adding.
I arrived home today when the sun was rising, pre-dawn light scratching against the black, welting it blue. I woke wanting to chew on things, to dig my back teeth in and grind the world between my molars, using my hips to appeal to my beliefs. For the sake of momentum, I suppose I should get dressed and try to start some sort of day, but I’m being caught by interesting things and lovely conversation with delightful people. I’m waiting on a golden man today, his voice on the telephone or his fingers on the keys. Perhaps until then I’ll continue wrapped in a sheet and sitting in a pool of burning star. When my hair has dried, I’ll call him, telling time in the most old fashioned way.
BoingBoing has picked up something I’ve been explaining to people lately, about how we hit the oil peak it the 70’s. When gas prices started hitting a dollar, I began to be curious where on the curve we really were. I hadn’t quite expected us to be so far down the right hand slope.