Spitball Army

I ask the bookseller for Nikolai Gogol. Bemused, he hands me Niccolò Machiavelli. Amused, I buy Alice Walker. He looks confused.

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3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house

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“Do you view yourself as an independent?” she was asked. “Well, I titled my book after an SNL skit, and they’re kinda indie, so…yeah.”  – Written by @EdBankson.

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Here are more found things from one corner of one room of my little house. This little batch, like the last two posted, are buttons, proclaiming support for certain “causes.”

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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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Okay, so this is just a video post, but I dare you not to laugh!

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It is easy to identify with the book’s protagonist and author Jean-Dominique Bauby, in full-body paralysis, as I am wedged between the triple-pane airplane porthole and Diane and Walter, curled up in a human ball next to me with their DVD player.

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Top Chef Masters;
Researching my house;
American Masters: The American Novel

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Rain;
The library;
The Dexateens’ Singlewide

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I used to think that 1972 was the be-all, end-all year of pop music, and 1967. Now I’m not so sure which one comes out on top. There is a ten-year stretch in there between the mid-’60s and the mid-’70s when some of my favorite records of all genres were released. I become firmer in my resolve about that with each passing year.

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