but it wasn't a melodious owl

The Good Shepherd is good, but too much whispering. too long, and with a lot of hats.

yesterday i injured my big toe playing basketball, bent the nail back, bled on my bedsheets. bandaged it (too late) today, hadn't thought it was all that bad.

hence, had to do laundry, limping.

so it goes, the day after Kurt Vonnegut died. here's a great bit from Slaughterhouse-Five:

Billy got out of bed in the moonlight. He felt spooky and luminous, felt as though he were wrapped in cool fur that was full of static electricity. He looked down at his bare feet. They were ivory and blue.

i just love that -- "he felt spooky and luminous..."

some more -- read this aloud:

Billy Pilgrim padded downstairs on his blue ivory feet. He went into the kitchen, where the moonlight called his attention to a half bottle of champagne on the kitchen table. Somebody had stoppered it again. "Drink me," it seemed to say.

So Billy uncorked it with his thumbs. It didn't make a pop. The champagne was dead. So it goes.

....and then it was time to go out into his backyard to meet the flying saucer. Out he went, his blue and ivory feet crushing the wet salad of the lawn. He stopped, took a swig of the dead champagne. It was like 7-Up. He would not raise his eyes to the sky, though he knew there was a flying saucer from Tralfamadore up there. He would see it soon enough, inside and out, and he would see, too, where it came from soon enough -- soon enough.

Overhead he heard the cry of what might have been a melodious owl, but it wasn't a melodious owl. It was a flying saucer from Tralfamadore, navigating in both space and time, therefore seeming to Billy Pilgrim to have come from nowhere all at once. Somewhere a big dog barked.
---

Vonnegut was one of my first real heroes, the only person i've ever sent fan mail to. sent him a story i wrote in high school that was basically a copy of his writing style and the plot from Cat's Cradle, but populated with my English classmates, all acting in an imagined future extrapolation of their personalities. for instance, class president Oleg was a mad scientist. most of these friends and classmates of mine are all part of the same karass, but unknowingly, and in ways that only become revealed during the course of the story. and in the end, the world ends.

he never replied.

hey, Grindhouse is totally fantastic. brings new meaning to the word gratuitous. good fun. also, i like that guitar solo in that Raconteurs song. nice effect.

and so on.

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