and still it poureth. one break of sun at midday like some lost thing cowering at a dance. looking around. 'do i fit in here? my hair is so....' enough time for a fourth coffee and a ten minute meeting with steve phillips on the deck. then joe capps on the phone asking if i'm "whuppin off into a big sack". remixing desderata next week to get the snare right and fix al's backing vocals....memory serving his thought was that they'd previously sounded like "fuckin duke". or some such.
amanda philipson and her friend pam (tony n' tina's vets) serenaded me with their ode to dove (yep, the soap); they were on their way to a parking lot in indianapolis to perform the aforementioned live and win the big bux and some tix to cali.
cormac mccarthy aficionados take note: cities of the plain es aqui. anyone who a) has read it, b) remembers that passage in the crossing when the palmreader tells billy that he has another brother besides boyd, and c) has some opinion about how it all ties together....speak or forever. win something yet to be announced.
latest thanks: to jules rheinhart for singing the virtues of the enormous creamcolored mug in the back of the cabinet (way back in september 1996....it just sank in).
the sundial was 'notes from the lakehouse' during the lakehouse years.
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