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

Thursday, September 18, 2003

I was just clicking along a pleasant little trail of Kerouac links . . . .

when I ended up at this spooky site. Check it out. I wanna say to whoever's responsible, go rent some Eddie Izzard dvds! Swinburne was definitely born in the wrong century (which, I suppose, he could at least take a perverse satisfaction in). Caveats: The first seven pages load automatically at a script-controlled sadistic rate of something like three minutes a page, so you might want to let them all load themselves to their hearts content while you go grab a latte. When you return, you can just backclick through them all, to see what you missed, before venturing on. Just don't go there for another hour or so, because I used up this person's allocated hourly bandwidth. I ventured on, fascinated, and eventually I emerged into the lovely photography of floria sigismondi. I have to say, I wasn't aware of her catching me wearing my iguanas on my head. But, well, you never know who's around snapping pix . . . . Anyone who can get David Bowie (who, you may remember, I sometimes dream about) to pose for her is ok in my book. And on my blog.
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