Spitball Army

I got my glasses O.K. You should see them. I doubt if you would like them any more than I do. They are GI glasses of course – made to take punishment not to look decent.

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– Hunger (2008) This debut from director Steve McQueen chronicles the last six weeks in the life of Irish republican hunger striker Bobby Sands (Oops! I’ve given it away…).  I didn’t hate it, didn’t enjoy it. The film is indeed painterly, told in images for the most part, with very little dialogue – the art background of McQueen […]

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Va al camioneta de los tacos cada semana para practicar su español, pero el tipo que vende tortas sólo hablar con él en Inglés.

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One of my buddies has a novel way of keeping up his correspondence. He boasts at least 6 letters a week to his wife. That’s all very well and good, but I don’t like the way he does it.

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Pre-dawn shuffling amid grass, I disrupt their industry. Mites leap at my calves. Hours later I still feel them, random phantoms.

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Card is titled: “Pulpit Rock, Cheaha State Park, Alabama – 8.”

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Approximate playing time: 80 minutes.

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I have a nice cold. The nose-blowing or sniffing doesn’t bother me much but I have a nice cough with it that is annoying. It makes me hotter to cough.

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And there’s that girl again, who I last time refered to as the Glenn Gould of in-store performances, singing along with all of the words.

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They imported pollinating bees to the cucumber fields, hoping for a divine yield. All they got were drops of honeyed manna.

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