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july 4, 2018 - 2018-07-04
the triangle continues of courtney, boobear, & nyota - 2018-07-03
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A bibliography of my published books and stories.

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so pretty so pretty

2014-04-13 - 10:01 a.m.

Yesterday's amazing push of male Indigo Buntings continues this morning. I suppose the males have to get out to the territories first?

Wow. Three tiptop quality adult males out on the feeder at the same moment. Although all the migrants I've seen have been males, some are clearly older and more "indigo" than others, and all three of these qualify.

Sheldon and Ronnie were huddled in the nest box comforting each other this morning. It has become all too obvious that the eggs are clear. Ronnie looked dazed. Poor thing. I removed the clear eggs to only a token protest.

Coachella is being live-streamed but not, apparently, Neutral Milk Hotel. I don't know what else I expected since Mangum finds being photographed so agonizing.

Some evildoer sneaked cell phone footage of "Ghost/Untitled" out of the Houston performance. I still don't know what he looks like though, which I suppose is the point. Between the hat and the facial hair run amok, he could rob a bank right on camera and nobody would know what his face looked like. For extra bonus points, he found time during a six minute clip to turn his back on the audience.

[Also while snooping around yesterday, I heard Beauty for the first time. Amazing. It's a demo and on a couple of tracks the Nirvana influence seemed stronger than in his published stuff. Takes lo fi to the point of sarcasm, considering the amount of faux vinyl record white noise you hear in the background...or really sometimes dominating the track. Well, that's a shit description, isn't it? But it's mind-blowing. Can't be put into just have to be there.]

I've never liked portrait photography or portraiture in general, and I often think I'm among the few who think the National Portrait Gallery in London is pretty much their least interesting important museum. Also, the camera hates me, so I have every sympathy for Mangum on that point really.

Here's a little fragment about photography that I scribbled the other day:

I was listening to Jackson Browne's 2010 Glastonbury performance of one of my favorite songs, Fountain of Sorrow, the other day. I realize the song is about his wife who killed herself shortly after getting married to him -- as if that wasn't bad enough, I remember hearing a rumor in the late 1970s that he'd married twice and BOTH wives had insta-suicided, sort of a teen-age girl Twitter rumor before there was a Twitter! -- but, no, it was one wife. The kiss of Jackson Browne is not insta-death. Anyway, there was a moment when the muse of the song was actually still alive and for me the song is forever about photography, not about suicide. But the point is this: What do you really know about someone from a photograph? Sweet fuck-all, that's what. What do you know about them from seeing a face? Sometimes it's the same answer to both questions, isn't it?

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