When I am old and grey and full of sleep Invite the light in from the ledge and drop a beat Make the floors shake, enrage the neighbors Wake the street When I am old and grey and full of sleep.
Is suitably dramatic. “Many are the strange chances of the world.”
Michael Forster Rothbart, who’s really cool and whom I interviewed earlier this year, has a new site dedicated to his photography, After Chernobyl. It’s interactive. A couple of people I adore have just created an equally adorable — and convenient — app: Pushme.to. Even as a stubborn, pedantic, even illogically hysterical anti-iPhoner, I can recognizeContinue reading “My friends do cool things: link round-up”
I admire Chekhov, and not just for his writing, and not just because he was startlingly hot either. To paraphrase Ivan Bunin, Chekhov was not a little bitch. Even when he knew he was dying from TB, he didn’t whine hysterically from the pages of Russian literary journals. He didn’t ask his readers for hugs.Continue reading “Depression: at the Black Gate with Anton Chekhov and Leroy Jenkins”
So we are in this season in Amman where the dust gets into my laptop’s keyboard if I imprudently take it outside, and it gets into the kitties’ fur as well, and this is why you’ll see me chasing the kitties with the Dustbuster and screeching a lot. I have accepted the fact that IContinue reading “Monday Music: The Dusty Winds of Khamasin Edition”