- The arc we walk is laden with shadows and our progress marked by the occasional trash can.
- A person I recently interviewed stopped my wife to say how much he enjoyed talking to me.
- This sickeningly narcissistic and reflective mood I'm in compelled me to take the above arc-ing sidewalk to the barber shop and make this winter beard presentable. I am smitten with the biker goddess that cuts my hair. She is like a real-life Katey Segal from Sons of Anarchy. She told me about having a houseful of grandkids for the holidays and how she doesn't whip her grandkids, and that's why they run rip-shod over her.
- Blogging has somehow begat a magazine called Artful Blogging,
which basically looks like if Redbook were staffed by etsy veterans. Lots of off-center pictures of vintage clothes in hangers languishing in natural light and careful piles of buttons and books and stones. I dare not check to see if Artful Blogging has blogs on its website, because that may open up a feedback loop of e-coyness that even I am unable to traverse. The campus bookstore is so weird; they don't stock the five decent magazines I would consistently buy on weak moments, but they carry Artful Blogging.
- This Dengue Fever compilation of Cambodian lounge pop is beyond beguiling. It makes the barber shop and bookstore and the sidewalk feel exotic. I don't know if it or any of the above answer any questions posed in the previous post. Or what I was even asking.