Yesterday I stared at the Linzer Tarts in the case & I remembered that there was a time when I really liked them. But now I see them, with all that powdered sugar & that weird blob of raspberry preserves & I think they are garbage cookies. Like the Black & White, they are best remembered than eaten.

I am hearing the word ‘cadence’ far too often of late, never in reference to music of poetry, and for reasons I cannot articulate, it makes me angry.

When we were children, we laid down our hard-earned allowance coinage for the opportunity to be entranced by jumping beans. We waited in suspense! Larvae! We watched larvae!

Alvin Lucier’s thoughts on surrendering to the wait-time for an elevator informs my method for making pour-over coffee. Cheap therapy.

Junior Mints and Sugar Daddies funded the John Birch Society.

Avocado toast without a fried egg on top is like. . . . night.

I do not believe that demographic statistics alone can account for the number of references to Martin Landau's role in "Tucker" (1988) that I make in a given year.

James Clerk Maxwell and Deborah Kerr.

At first, Dvořák didn’t think the cello would even work in a concerto. What a blbec!

Well, as Mozart said, believing and shitting are two very different things.

Joy can come in unexpected ways and today it came from hearing Sarah Vowell repeatedly saying the word “crumbum.”

. . . and with the confidence of Jack Cassidy’s sideburns.