Now joining the music blog movement...

Here's the link to the song I mentioned yesterday. You know, the one about meadows and dresses and girls. At least in my mind that's what it's about.

Sun Kil Moon, "Carry Me Ohio"

Sundress and a meadow

So I'm listening to this song by Sun Kil Moon (led by the former frontman of Red House Painters, Mark Kozelek), called "Carry Me Ohio," and decided it felt like being in a meadow on a spring day, watching a girl in a sundress twirling with her arms up towards the sky, wistful, waiting for something to change. And I decided my imagery (and the song) was nice enough to share with you.

Juxtapositions of Persons

What to say? I've been here, done that, reported this, catalogued that. A visit with the police, a lineup of unfamiliar faces, so the subway bandit remains at large. Learned that the Filipinos are into heroin, the Moroccans into cat, the latter being (apparently) a new hallucinogen. Saw dolphins surfing waves in North Carolina, tried to swim out to greet my flippered brethren, lost them amid the foamy breaks. At a beach bonfire, I got near-naked and posed with a shovel. (Check Facebook for evidence.) I helmed a sailboat, submarined the nose, almost flipped us ass-over-end. Played lots of frisbee and bought a yo-yo. Back home, I bought a desk, filled it with shaped wood pulp, a.k.a. books and magazines. The parents come on Saturday, so I need a room filled with the trappings of modern convenience to convince them that I'm living a real life.

A week away reawakened wanderlust, got a pining for Southeast Asia and/or Africa, but the latter is getting a bit cliche. Looking ahead to three months of intensive(?) work on Fareed's opus, we'll see how it goes.

Your lover,

Barrett

Find me a safehouse

I just got a call from the police. They caught a suspect in the mugging/assault I witnessed. The detective is coming to pick me up at 4:30 to take me to Brooklyn and pick him out of a lineup.

I worry about my memory. I got a decent look at him, but that was a month ago now. I don't want to be responsible for sending the wrong person to prison, but I also don't want to let the police down - they've contributed an amazing amount of time and effort to catching this lowly perp, and I don't want to be the weak keystone that brings the arch down.

If I recognize the suspect, I'll be asked to testify. I've seen enough crime movies to know that my chances of soon thereafter being fitted for cement shoes is, oh, 80 percent.

Elsewhere, my sister, a star high school volleyball player and potential college recruit, tore her ACL and needs surgery. Kate H. was lovely enough to send me a long write-up on her experience with ACL surgery, which assuaged a lot of my parents' worries. If you have any words of wisdom that can illuminate the recovery process, and her prospects for future athletics, please let me know.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod

Did I watch last night's MTV Movie Awards? Of course not! Did you? I didn't think so. And why would I, when all the best clips would be on Youtube the next day (i.e. today)?

The best clip of the evening - perhaps the best awards show clip ever - came when host Sarah Silverman made a scathing joke about Paris Hilton going to jail - while she was in the audience.

DUI fine: $1200.
Lawyers' fees: $95,000.
Paris' reaction shot: Priceless.

Flux

There is a lot of flux at work these days: people leaving, people coming, people terminated. Yesterday was the last day of a friend, Jack, who is responsible for, among other things, turning me on to Seize Sur Vingt shirts. (Fingers crossed: going to buy one today!) Before we went out for drinks, someone passed around a card to sign. Each time it went to a new person, that person sat and pondered the other messages for a while, thought about his own, then scribbled something witty or sweet. By the time this got around to the seventh or eighth person, it was a bit laborious. Someone summed up the situation:

"Never let a bunch of writers sign a card."

Villagers collecting scrap from a crashed spacecraft in Russia, surrounded by white butterflies. For 60 years of Magnum Photography, see here.