The Only Cure Is More Piano.

Well, I sure talked about it enough, perhaps it's time to pony up and let you decide for yourselves. So, without further bullshitting, I present to you ANWR - Stall Tactics - Epiphany. In my own defense, I haven't used MLA citations in over 5 years, so before you unlock the pillory, remember - I'm only super human. (And the APA or Chicago styles are far sexier.)

Also, be sure to check out this chick, Vienna Teng. I caught her on PBS the other night and was enthralled. Dare I say, transfixed? No? Ok. Spellbound, then. Talented. Female. Asian. On PBS. Just by her description, I bet Shane would go cock over collar for her. As for myself, since L.A. has fallen through, I’ve considered a road trip to catch her in Raleigh, NC on Saturday. If anyone is interested, let me know. I’m just insane enough to do it, but not so much so to want to foot the bill for gas all by myself. Plus, a 900+ mile round trip drive would probably be a bit lonely.

Couple things for those of you how give a shit about these kinds of things. (I'm looking at you Lunchie.) While I haven't given up on The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich my progress has slowed dramatically. My preferred selection for the water closet at present is The Selected Poetry and Prose of Alexander Pope. Pope is close enough to "poop," which isn't my motivation for picking it up at all. Nor does it easy on the (brown) eye. Sure, planting that little euphemism in your delicate minds is reason enough, but also I happen to like his pastorals...and his Essay on Criticism is the cat's balls. (We also have the same birthday. Go figure.)

I've also acquired Ellison's The Glass Teat which is everything Lunchie hoped for and more. It's good. Oh, sweet Bible-thumping Jerry Falwell, it's good!!!! I was moved to tears in Stonecup this evening. Chapter 13 broke me. Needless to say, I was a bit embarrassed by the random coffee-drinker who came to pat me on the shoulder and say, “Hey man, it’ll be OK.” Maybe I am overly sentimental. Or maybe the world’s just fucked. Either way, I swear to the aforementioned Falwell that if I wind up teaching about the late 60s and 70s, this book is going to be required reading.

Now, this was the somewhat – sorta - happy post. I’m just warning you guys. The bombs may start falling very soon. I won’t blame you for running for cover. Remember, duck and cover.