choo-choo...

these boys in black garments. occasional hands. gold-edged gestures. appear bound in the traces. the buck of steerage. the wavering. what i want to say is thaumatrope. but it's not a word for this century. no matter how it suits. bondage pants and badges and a crass alphabet see to that. big a little a bouncing b etc. these chicken-legged boys. well.

listening: temptation-- new order.

it's nice to have the correct tools for the job. until tuesday i was missing some of the tools i needed. and the money to buy them. print and sound. suddenly things begin to make more sense.

sunday's visit will make me very happy. i've missed my friend.

s.b. made a ridiculously funny self-portrait. every time i think about it i start giggling. maybe he'll let me post it. he made himself a devil with a bratty grin. remarkable resemblance. and a second similar except he's got a yellow bindle. waiting for a train.

in other sectors...

oh. there's the girl with the pointed features and the pixie-cut hair. sometimes i stare because she's just so wee and cute. i hate describing the wee people as cute. (i have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about that. i'm wee. i wouldn't say i'm cute.) but she is. and she had a mound of cookies. she very shyly offered them. if only i hadn't just eaten breakfast! fiddlesticks!

listening: the devil's radio-- robyn hitchcock.

and...

tousled/cowlick-y hair. attractive. ah me.

wellidy.

tomorrow i overhaul the blogroll. there are names to add. whoooot! but now i go to sleep. for the good-night: le ciel dans une chambre-- carla bruni.