Ein Laterne, ein Lausejunge, der Lautsprecher: lautlos

Don't read this. This isn't worth reading. This will tell you nothing you don't already know. This might land you in court, in jail, in detention, in solitary confinement. This is the hard way to update your computer. This is the 25% more, free, without purchase of the rest of the product. This is a test flight. This is a sparrow or a bat carcass stuck in the grill of your truck. This is a lanky cat showing you its asshole. This is moldy bread. This could lend you money or take money away from you. This theory makes no sense. This guy's acid trip went splat after twelve stories. This means don't drop acid in a high-rise dormitory. This will understandably lead to rhetorical grammar. This is the fourth edition. This smells like teriyaki chicken. This check will not clear without personal sacrifice. This commendation to the First Marine Division, Reinforced, at one time will have been rendered pointless to anyone who isn't a Marine. This is a laxative. This is a doohickey or dowackle or skeezix or gobbledygook or twiseasess or zusammenpassen or Nasenbluten or nichtsdestoweniger or Verbindlichkeit. This box contains monkeys. This loudspeaker doesn't work. This fucker has only one eye. This louse lives in his skin. This hope is unconscious. This fortune will be squandered. This time around we have ways of making you talk. This deodorant is unscented. This much is true: the Chinese eat no cheese. This sugar cookie has a toenail in it. This year we try harder. This wanderer knew where to go but not from where. This finger smells funny. This state park toilet facility is home to twelve species of spider. This news does not bode well. This distant relative wrung his hands. This is an attempt to collect a debt. This is your mother. This rash should clear up before Thanksgiving. This coming January shows promise. This time let the clutch out slowly while giving it some gas and don't worry if it hops. This war will get worse before it gets better. This never happened.

WEBLOG: a log with a spider's web on it

First new post in nearly a month. Why are we so goddamn busy? How come each semester has its own bizarre theme? I still don't care one bit for T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound. I still haven't read "Moby Dick." I would still like to have a standing table constructed. I've blazed through three pads of yellow paper since August and each draft I've written feels incomplete, flawed, gangly, or sideways. I now enjoy W.S. Merwin's poetry. And Charles Baxter's novel "First Light" (it moves backward). I need a secretary.

Liz and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary on the 19th.