Boom! Duck Man! Part II

The score is now 1 to 1.

So. Two posts on the day. (The internet, lately, has been on the fritz. A glut of accumulated CFYK)

So there's this thing where I feel like I've been taking in so much information lately. I feel full. LIke I need to retreat into a neo-luddite Walden Pond decompression set-up. I've been reading a bunch of books lately (although only like one fourth the books that my sister L has, true to form) ... seeing movies, watching TV, being on the internet. Checking out the radio. It's stifling to me. So I thought I'd have an occasional, like, thing where I can get rid of the day's media intake.

I watched all but the first 15 minutes of Basquiat over an extended lunch break. You always miss some part of a movie when it's on TV. (VoD is such an enormously useful idea it refuses to ever catch on.)

Watched it with The Old Searching Analytical Rai Chile - he who wants (and I can't necessarily blame him) all of modern art broken down for him into a set of static symbols like code. Jeffery Wright's performance is so honest and earnest I can't shake it.

Also, (can you tell?) I have found Shamanzo's old Big Sur & I read about the plashing Pacific Waves - the same waves wherein a nude Team Blue swam with the Security Council - but I am half-asleep reading 'neath a blue umbrella, adjacent to staid swimming pool, with its own set of happy childhood sunburn sounds.

Today I watched Aqua Teen DVDs, and I heard this NPR interview with The red-head from Six Feet Under, but it wasn't interesting. Neither is this. But, yo man. It has to be done.