Bob is currently Schroedinger's cat, as we haven't seen him for several days. We had allowed him to sleep in the laundry room while the nights were frosty, and he knocked on the door Thursday or Friday at 5 am, bored and craving attention. I carried him to the door and put him outside as I wasn't inclined to entertain a cat at 5 in the morning.
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Speaking of Bob and Schroedingers Cat - Robert Anton Wilson died today. Fuck. Makes you feel vaguely helpless, like - now what?
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I'm sorry to hear about Wilson. It seems all the greats of my youth are dying or dead, and I'm not sure the current climate in America will allow anyone to replace them. We're heading back toward the Dark Ages and Third World status licketty split.
I kept meaning to comment on the artist you'd mentioned awhile back. I think June~ showed me that painting years ago (tree, crows) and I'd liked it.
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