Songbirds Lie

i tried on a pair of used cowboy boots that were black. the toe was too tight and the heel was too loose. the previous owner had very triangular feet apparently. the sky is orange tonight... hurricane season.

Machine translated from the Dutch:

"The Scene Is is Now one of that mysterious, geheimzinnnige ties from New York. In the ended 22 year have they only five albums brought out. In all that years its they with Pere Ubu, Reason Crayola, and Half Japanese compared. And perhaps remembers one yet the number 'Yellow Sarong' that Yo Drawer Tengo of them coverde. In every case, The Scene Now of theirs 's old style do not deviates Is: confusing rhythms, cheap keyboard sounds and creaky song."

black light

just finished john hawkes' novel "the beetle leg" and feel like maybe i need to start again at the first page. each paragraph creates its own world from scratch, with surreal, poetic descriptions that don't lend themselves easily to visualization. the big picture begins to materialize eventually, as it must, i suppose. maybe only because i wanted it to. maybe this book was the inspiration for ted berrigan's mock-western "clear the range," one of my favorite and most-revisited books. not a lot of people have had the patience to finish it, i've heard, which is pretty ridiculous seeing as how it's only 136 pages long.

buying a taco the other night at 2am, inbetween sets with casey (and nick this time also, whose loud but pretty electronics were a good filter for our sounds), a puerto rican on a barstool next to me asks if i "like those tee-tees." before i realize what he's asking i turn in the direction of his gaze to face a pair of breasts, bouncing in the black light. the place is full of men in glowing white tee shirts, all watching the same breasts as they roam around the room. when i ask the guy next to me if this happens often, he looks at me a little suspiciously (although he should know that since i was patted down upon entering that i am not an undercover officer of the law) and says "thursday, friday, saturday," and kind of trails off in such a way that suggests maybe he means every night. then he puts a finger to his lips and smiles. now that i think about it, he was smiling the whole time. the taco was only two dollars and really hit the spot.

lung

visited jason today in the hospital. his right side lung collapsed for the third time a couple days ago, and the surgery they performed should prevent it from happening again. there were lots of purple marks on his pale skin, bruises, vessels and some ink from the surgeon's purple marker. i walked all the way from long island city to the hospital in greenwich village, staying on the sunnyside of the street and with headphones for a change. generally i prefer the sounds of traffic and bits of passing conversation, but for long walks a little music is nice. playing with casey later tonight, improvised crooked and shadowy dronebeats, overlapping with simplified/explored guitar lines, some melodica duets.

one banana left

dinner w/ kesone tonight after about eight months of not seeing or speaking to one another. not for any negative reason; just two lives that don't overlap unless planning takes place. real friendship still exists, though, always there beneath the surface, resilient, renewable, and comforting. i'm glad of this. my alphabetical listening has brought me up to john fahey. there is one banana left, and it might be past the flavor i prefer.