Epistle to Dippy

Glowstick orbitals.

Josh Alan Friedman, Black Cracker
Unknown, The Book of Job (King James Version)
Fyodor Dostoevsky,  Notes from the Underground
Countless episodes of TLC prison shows 
Season One of Bored to Death
Donovan, Greatest Hits
Love, Forever Changes
Serge Gainsbourg, Monsieur Gainsbourg
Padgett Powell, The Interrogative Mood

I finished Black Cracker but it was maybe a tweet and/or an interview with Barry Hannah I read last week that sent me to Job. I have my grandma's Bible right over there on the table with all the other books though I'm certain it hasn't been cracked open in a decade or so. It a nice one, with the concordances in the back and pleasing gold on the edge but in the rare moments when I'm called to the LORD as they demonstratively say it there, I just Google it. Job is a corker, what with Satan's character developing like Anakin Skywalker in the first three Star Warses.

More unexpected than my reading the Bible is my reading the Russians, but while TLC told the same prison stories on into the night, I finally got sick of looking at Facebook, hoping for signs of life like a maroonee clinging to the crystal radio kit in his makeshift island shack, and the books were way over there across the room  and I went iPhone Project Gutenberging for Faulkner since it was his birthday and he's another like the Russians that I want to get into but avoid like a locust swarm, but Old Will skirted their net and I ended up with Fyodor. I don't really know exactly what the guy in the underground is going on about quite yet, but this little bit from Book I, Part I seemed a blogger's credo

But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure?

Answer: Of himself.

Well, so I will talk about myself. 

Maybe that's why the Russians basically took over LiveJournal. Oh, and I watched all of Season One of Bored to Death and love it, and maybe that episode about the Russian nightclubs in Brighton Beach sent me to Dostoevsky. Like Ted Danson's remark, "Russian night club? I wanna go there!"

Today I conversed about Donovan a little online. I think he's a lovable magpie that occasionally stumbles onto genius like "Season of the Witch," (how to go from the Turtles to the Animals in one easy chord change)  "Epistle to Dippy" (a perfect song that invented twee twenty thirty years early), and most certainly, the join-inner that out join-ins "Hey Jude" - "Atlantis"



Then I did a little interpretive dance to Love's "Maybe The People Would Be The Times Or Between Clark And Hilldale" that my daughter found amusing



and while I was on a roll with my favorite songs, ate grilled cheese sandwiches to "Bonnie and Clyde" which I can't embed for some stupid reason. Here is the disaffected hot original version with Serge and Brigitte Bardot, and the equally or and then some hot use of it in Laurel Canyon when Frances McDormand gets Kate Beckinsale going, which I can't embed either. First world complaint, I know. All I'm sayin' is the comment section is all agog over Kate when Frances is the real dream girl there.