Day 43

2/23/2006

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by 
madness, starving hysterical naked, 
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn 
looking for an angry fix...

--Allen Ginsberg, Howl

I admit that I ain't no angel,
I admit that I ain't no saint,
I'm selfish and I'm cruel and I'm blind.
If I exorcize my devils, 
Well, my angels may leave too.
When they leave, they're so hard to find.

--Tom Waits, Please Call Me, Baby

It's been long haul scruffy beltin' beat to blog, and gaps of Nancy, hairspray 'n' socks can freeze-button stutter-step the film noir that is that dazed fifty cents of time. Takin' time to trap the quilted thought-flow down rickety flume. I want a roll in my typewriter, but it's way past gone for that. The bums have wasted wisdom, "slipped down the crack in '89". And the instant polished custom slogans slog through memory's boggy borrowed path. "I can't imagine...", so true in times of tickers and terror, we harbor the threatdown-focusing point of the arrow and can't... drift... away...

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