Not one of us. The world's richest.

Gabba gabba we accept you…one of us one of us. Not.

Forbes ranks the world's billionairesMexican billionaire Carlos Slim smiles during a Bloomberg Television…

via Forbes
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Slut's wool

Encountered this phrase while reading William Gibson’s latest “Zero History”. Love it. Slut’s wool.

slut's woolanother name for 'dust bunnies', large conglomerations of dust and other debris that collects in the corner of rooms, normally around skirting boards. Before 'slut' became common-usage for a woman of promiscuous temperament it was also used to describe a slovenly girl or woman who was untidy or did not clean her house.

Slut’s wool

Encountered this phrase while reading William Gibson’s latest “Zero History”. Love it. Slut’s wool.

slut's woolanother name for 'dust bunnies', large conglomerations of dust and other debris that collects in the corner of rooms, normally around skirting boards. Before 'slut' became common-usage for a woman of promiscuous temperament it was also used to describe a slovenly girl or woman who was untidy or did not clean her house.

mars rover

I am still a space booster. I remember playing space capsule in and around my father’s car while i listened to the broadcasts from the mercury spacecraft on the car radio. now we send a car to mars.

it is a great shame that we have let our space program drift into obscurity. I was watching “2001” with Maria last night, filled with sorrow that our vision of what we could and should do in space shrunk from the space station, the lunar base and the mission to jupiter with an artifically intelligent computer aboard by 2001 shown in the film to the orbiting trailer park we have now.

I often think that if there is a ufo alien conspiracy, its purpose is to keep us out of the galaxy by thwarting our efforts in space at every turn (including inserting negative messages about space travel into our media or our sleeping minds). I guess I wouldn’t want us moving into the neighborhood either.

Call me Johnny. Johnny Harpoon

Call me Johnny. Johnny Harpoon. This is my city. Ten million zeroes, and no matter how you add it up, still comes out the same…zero. It’s like one shoe lying in the gutter in the rain and nobody knows where the other shoe is and why there’s never more than one– Dead eyes staring up at the steel-wool sky crunch of broken glass beneath my heels hiss of my tires rolling through the sweaty night. I’m meeting some flybait calls himself “Slash” or “Trash” says he can put a name to the polaroid in my pocket for the right price…a dime bag of milk-sugar skag I keep stashed for assholes like him. I smell him coming, that metallic B.O. He scans the Polaroid with some snot-caked black box he built himself, says “3645 Market Street. Ask for Dog.” Palms the skag. Fades into the alley. Two hours later I’m at the door asking for Dog. There’s a squeal like a flash charging and the Subsonic Taser hits me in the back. As I go down I tongue my false tooth twice and my hat fires a dart into Dog’s throat. I rubber leg it out the door and collapse onto a pile of garbage bags. I come to ten minutes later, they’re loading Dog into the meat wagon, and the blue uniform is playing Keith Moon on my head with his nightstick. He passes his handscan over my wrist and my picture and license number come up on its little screen. He arrests me anyway. I’m leaving the station house and I’m beat. I drag ass into the all-night liquor store for a deck of butts and a bottle. Some dork with a headful of Carbona has a shotgun at Chang’s belly. I drop to one knee, pull my .22 out of my sock and fire. The explosive round just glides into that junky’s brain pan, and he blooms like a hamburger rose. Chang’s splattered with brains and blood, but I don’t pay for the butts or the booze. I look back, Chang’s pulping that slime with his baseball bat, smiling like it’s his wedding day. Call me johnny. Johnny Harpoon. This is my city…10 million zeroes and no matter how you add it up it still comes out the same..zero. I’m going home to plug my head into the wall socket. Get some relief.

Play Johnny Harpoon

johnny harpoon

to blog or not to blog

Been wrestling all morning with the wordpress blog. I have been wondering whether to move this sphere of activity from the cloud or public or whatever one calls all of the blog sites to a remote server controlled (rented) by me. This work is fascinating and compelling to me, as puzzle solving is to all of us primates.

And now, I have successfully imported the blogger posts into this new wordpress blog. how fab. now it is all here for everyone to ignore.

sylvia plath's kitchen

theatre light bulbHome now after Maria’s show. The show was at a space reminiscent of all of those american performances held in abandoned industrial spaces in the late 70’s, out in the industrial districts of athens. It was a loose staging of Sylvia Plath’s verse play “Three Women, a poem for three voices”. Of course Maria was great and beautiful, but I also appreciated the music and the performance of Adrian Friling. I also enjoyed thoroughly the potato soup he cooked throughout the performance and served to the public afterwards.

sylvia plath’s kitchen

theatre light bulbHome now after Maria’s show. The show was at a space reminiscent of all of those american performances held in abandoned industrial spaces in the late 70’s, out in the industrial districts of athens. It was a loose staging of Sylvia Plath’s verse play “Three Women, a poem for three voices”. Of course Maria was great and beautiful, but I also appreciated the music and the performance of Adrian Friling. I also enjoyed thoroughly the potato soup he cooked throughout the performance and served to the public afterwards.

Floorshime Zipper Boots: Blaine L. Reininger: Music for Dance and Theater

Floorshime Zipper Boots: Blaine L. Reininger: Music for Dance and Theater: Music for Dance and Theater is the latest album from legendary American artist/composer Blaine L. Reininger. best know for his work with t…