Uncle Anoosh
Another Bob Dylan + girl photo.
Daww.
Been running into lotsa cool watercolour paintings lately. This one of Vincent Gallo was painted by Marilyn Manson.
Penn State
I am in no way attached to this school, their sports teams; the scandal doesn’t affect me. I didn’t know who Joe Paterno was until it happened, nor did I know that Penn State was even a decent football team. I still don’t really care. One thing bothers me though: After being generally a good guy (supportive, generous, and all that) Mr. Paterno died in the wake of all this crap that went on, probably feeling like he let a lot of people down. Of course he was a fault a little bit for neglect or whatever you want to call it, but something feels…. not right. The balance is off. The one career damaging, reputation smearing thing that happened to him had to happen right before his death so that he goes out feeling horrible. The little bit I know about him makes me think that he’s entitled to a happy death. But whatever. I had more to say, but now I’m disinterested.
New Years Resolution
Made some pasta from scratch* today. If there were such a thing as “Italian points” I would certainly have gained some today. It was especially satisfying considering the fact that I lacked the proper tools, such as a sufficient surface on which to mix/knead/roll, the thing that cuts your giant dough sheets into pasta, and an old Italian woman to guide me. In the end it turned out quite perfect. No complaints whatsoever. I will consume tomorrow evening.
*That is to say that I began with quite basic ingredients, specifically flour and eggs; I do not claim to have created the universe.
Brain says, “Nnnnnope!”
1:39 AM Dakota Layman Blues
The layman never fell apart
Before he came to town
And let the glasses drown
Knocking to the ground
Harmony’s homunculi
Stitching up their gown.
Berated by the conscience
Who was put there by mistake
And raped the second takes
Putting sadness in their wake
To make the layman lay awake
Not knowing what to take.
Given Rumplestiltzken hands
And standing oh-so near
Stroking half in fear,
The layman learns to hear
The beauty in the crying of
His Dakota bottom dear.
