Random neuron firing, lame philosophy, literary pontificating, movies, sex, clothes & other femme stuff

Friday, September 19, 2003

Hurricane Ex-Lax is coming

Catherine has a completely brilliant idea--letting corporations bid to put their names on hurricanes. Like the years in D.F.W.'s Infinite Book, "The Year of the Depends Adult Diaper," etc. Also, Catherine's encounter with the aspiring mutilatant (mutilatee? mutilatand? mutilatrix? woman just wanting some mutilation?) is so perfectly bizarre. It's so totally uncanny when you all of a sudden find yourself trapped in a real-life situation.

Random neuron firing. One of the (few) lines of popular song I consider celestial poetry: "Little old lady got mutilated late last night." Interweavings of dentals and labials are just asking to be sung. Like "tra la la." And the contrast between the babbling brook fluidity of "lady got mutilated" and the long voweled, evenly emphasized, equally "t"-stopped "late last night" is fucking divine, I think.

Isn't Warren Zevon one of those recently surprisingly dead people?

Um, couldn't I maybe just go one day without sneaking death into a post? How about this Tuesday? Couldn't we have Tuesdays Without Memento Mori?

If there were a restaurant called Arcadia Ego, someone could say, "Last night I et in Arcadia Ego."

Badda Boom.

I'm dying out here, folks.
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