Me in a Robert Serra at Glenstone, a rich fuck’s private art collection as laundromat but free, just need a reservation, usually need to make months in advance, it was Sunday morning an hour short because of clocks and the wind chill factor in the lows teens I was told on the eights so I what the fuck tried and got us in at 10AM, only slot open, Saul to Parkwood to Knowles turns to Strathmore to Rockville Pike to Tuckerman to Falls to Glen (the bridge over Watts Branch where Glen, South Glen, and Glen Mills meet still magic) to there
Humanity cannot outgrow its death drive!
Waltzing towards Armageddon
This is a fossil-fuel war
The epidemic of covid complacency
Death of a political animal
Not only the first museum we visited since plague and then not-plague plague, the only shitlord showoff laundromat I’ve ever visited that *didn’t* charge me for the privilege of admiring shitlord’s collection
Low pay, no advancement opportunities
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In which I jinx my reading of Wings
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Henry James reviews America upon his return from self-exile
I read Ohle’s *Motorman* and loved and ordered the next Mordenke novel but weirdest the sherbet I thought between the two *another* attempt at Henry James, so here I am jinxing not only the having fun! read of Wings of the Dove I am jinxing my reading of the next Mordenke of Ohle
Shitlord loyal to their rubes, MLB edition
Maggie’s weekly
{ feuilleton }’s weekly
I will write about work here but for now I’m burying it in grids not because anyone who’d object reads but here is the Kids in the Hall allusion