Hop aboard this thrilling train of Yours Truly thought.
Go to Parsons online course and holy crapskis someone actually POSTED. Instructress says read this and this and this and this and this. All of the readings pertain (very important grad word, like signify, rubicon, student loan, mentor and paradigm shift) to images of the Other. As in xenophobia and the capturing thereof. Or jungle fever and the capturing therof.
One of the links/readings is of images made, turn-of-C-style, of women of Algiers.
Go to CIA's factsheet on Algeria.
Read about Morocco, another former France-occupied spot.
Start thinking of France.
Start thinking of gai Paris.
Go to site listing apartments for rent in gai Paris.
Note that they are not très expensive, off-season, mon favori.
Meander back in memory to last visit in gai Paris, walking streets, echoing feet, speaking the tongue of gai Paris, eating the food on the tongue of gai Paris.
Jump off train speeding like the TGV, hit ground hard and body rolls until it comes to rest against a seeded, gone to autumn butterfly bush.

No love for Bush.

Blogger offers a special memo on how to blog a novel and, as much as I adore all my Perfection-loving epinw fans, I just cannot imagine tossing your collectivity into the midst of This Middling City, a sizzler, a bestseller if ever there was one.
Today's shooting included an anti-drug parade and hoopla. So I decorated the golden Forester and showed up to rep the other team. In seriosity I arrived to discover about 100 screaming children, dressed in red and holding red balloons. New special thought: hire these screamers to line my driveway for my annual red dinner in February. What a send-on for my guests as they arrive for dinner and drinks. So this parade was not a parade at all but a simple line of screamers and I could not make out the phrase that was screamed again and again and to me it sounded Japanese. Finally, I approached one of the children wranglers to ask the big question, to solve the mystery of the moment. BEEP THE HORN, BEEP THE HORN, BEEP THE HORN, BEEP THE HORN.
So when innocent motorists motored by they were greeted by this arcane phrase ordering them to beep so the children would scream louder and the motorists, if lucky and passing by at a slow rate of speed, could glean why in fuck they were beeping.
Nancy's special thoughts on baseball, parting thoughts.
The sport's uniforms are okay, varying slightly from team to team. Some look like really cheap poly. Some look better. When soiled mid-game I wonder if players are allowed to change into a clean one for telegenics's sake.
There are no supremely handsome baseball players and they tend towards awkward hairstyles. In keeping with my formula that the ire level of professional athletes is in proportion to the stylishness of their jerseys baseball players like so fit in. Hockey players look ridiculous suited up for the game and they fight most. Football players's natural looks are obscured and they are rather angry. Baseball players's physiques are open as are their faces and they are least prone to fisticuffs. Soccer players are most exposed and stylish and they don't fight. I rest my sporty case.

Sporty Spice Love.

So I had a Bon Voyage Koji party and concurrent old-fashioned throwdown to which seemingly thousands meandered into and stumbled out of. AJ brought a bday prez for me, one of his empty shotglass paintings, a marvel. I hung it immediately during a break in the baseball action - Kennedy and other fellas watched the game in my chamber and that is exactly where the painting needed to be. So up on a chair with work, hammer, nail and a wapping. AJ told me three times during the party how much he hates my new 'do. The red chunks, specifically. Had a very trying day yesterday which nearly began with the Middling City's mayor smiling into my lens after I asked his handler to Please hold the mayor's trenchcoat, and ended placidly at Kennedy's home as I drifted into SnoozleLand, the newest copy of SPIN still resting quietly in my hands. They did a fine job of amassing a chart to teach the masses of youngters and hipsters the big diffs betwixt the candidates. Shot Nader (again) on Sunday as he spoke not too far from here at the Ukrainian Party HQ on Genesee Street. It was packed with the usuals: Birkenstocks, Green Parties, Hippies, Crunchies, Crabbies - all holding oddly homogenous signs. I realized one of the Nader people had made the cheesey signs and passed them out.
Example:
Bush and Kerry make me want to Ralph.
Now really. Should a self-proclaimed peace candidate, self-reffed spoiler joke about his name being a euphemism for a politically-inspired barf, regardless of the barf's emeticlike source.
Ralph spoke of democracy, how he's not allowed to debate so therefore on his website he debates the other two sports virtually. How does one get a nose like Nader. Why does he always look like he awoke from a weeklong train ride in his suit. Did he. Stumpingly, he signed copies of his newest book, Crash!ing the Party. And sold merch, like any disaffected man with a following on the peripheries must.

Love Votes.

politico ps (pps):
Received the Pentagon conspiracy theory jet v. missile 9/11 video today. Art critique: a bit inconsistent, no firm conclusions, hearsay-ridden, no thrilling conclusion ie: links, deep facts. From me gets a big thumbs mid-way, another blip of fact to add to the heap of election year banter and warfare.