Stiff Green Gallop

Jim Morrison's poetry spoke to me in high school. Today at the gym, I thought of Horse Latitudes, the Magnum opus of the drug-addled Southern California counterculture of the late '60s.

As I struggled to lift with my legs (and not blow a hammy), I looked up at the long line of cardio machines in front of me. All this human kinetic energy, and we can't even power the individual televisions attached to each machine. That's crazy. What do we do with all this useless beauty?

"Nobody with a Good Car Needs Religion"

So says Hazel Motes, the holy fool of Flannery O'Connor's masterwork Wise Blood.

It's 72 degrees here in Boston right now, balmy for late April, and people are turning their furnaces off, opening their windows, and inhaling the incredibly sweet and fresh air. They're also staying out later at night, driving more erratically and doing a lot more reckless jaywalking. Yes, spring is here.

Feeling a little bit bedraggled coming home from work yesterday, I saw an incredible thing. It was a jacked-up El Camino with the American flag painted crassly across the hood. Revving its huge engine and waiting for the light to change, it seemed hopeful, anticipatory; an unexpected feature of the landscape.

It said, keep going.

Pictures of the Sky

Mad propz again to Zefrank for pointing out the lovely work of one David Horvitz, whose pictures of the sky project I am enjoying quite a bit. I have been receiving these via email every few days.

There's some kind of simple delight in quotidian things.

I Love Boston

Tuesday night, 10:17 p.m., WAAF 107.3 FM...

DJ: "Caller, you're on the air - what can I do ya for?"
Caller: "I gotta hear some Danzig."
DJ: "Nice. Which one?"
Caller: "Mother."
DJ: "Good call. What are you doing tonight?"
Caller: "Workin'. Thinkin' about my friend's mom."