Monday, June 19, 2006

How exciting to be typing away at nothing in particular and all of the sudden find fresh blood on my desk where my arms rest! It's unsourced still. No cuts or scabs I can find. No presence in my room of anyone other than myself for longer than I can care to think about right now. Must be some stigmata shit, I guess. I can only read the signs as they present themselves. The "nothing in particular" tapped away at would be related to watching soccer and biking around Brooklyn, which have been my most worthwhile activities of late. (Rufus Wainwright at Carnegie Hall was worthwhile too, but delving into specifics strikes me as unappealing at the moment, being all specific and all.)

I will take this opportunity to point out a rather phenomenal blog started by my brother Jeff, who is spending his summer in Argentina. If I hadn't already been itching to go there, I certainly would now.

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