These days, I'm either all chill or none at all.
The center is gone, like somebody licked out the middle of the Oreo.
Maybe I'm becoming more of a nihilist; either everything matters, or nothing does.
I'm inclined towards the latter.
On a less bombastic note, I witnessed some beautiful art this week.
First, at Retail Therapy, new work by artist/poet/raconteur Philipp.
I met new people and talked art and old books and drank red wine and admired the pieces, happy/sad that my pal's work is now out of my price range.
Then, on to Dendroica, to meet up with new friend Noel, a mad talented cartoonist and poet. This was a rambunctious gathering of cartoonists who got their start in the '90's, as nerdy, lovable, talented and provocative a group as I've met in awhile.
And I realized belatedly that my pal Indu was also showing on the Hill at Bluecone.
For all the kvetching I do about Seattle losing its soul, maybe I'm wrong, maybe the time for breaking shit and tearing things apart is still upon us.
Check out this don hertzfeldt contribution to The Simpsons couch gag. I can't stop watching. Check out more of his work here .
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Today's soundtrack: I'm not familiar with Bobrisky but I love east African beats and this beat is sweet. For context, read Oka...