I experienced a multitude of dreams last night. The only one I can recall vivdly was a brief spell where I was holed up in a squalid little apartment with Mick Jagger ( Read more... )

I want to see the movie Ratatouille. Does this make me a loser? Infantile? Vermophile? Nay! Brad Bird's work is gold, accept this! Also it is about cooking.

I must confess something to you: the other day, I used the term "blogosphere scuttlebut" without even a trace of irony. I will run up a mountain this afternoon as penance.

Sincerely,

Knox Harrington

Some poems culled from the blog of my favourite anthropomorphic stuffed animal cat, Roast Beef:

Raw Deal ( Read more... )

it's summertime,
and I can understand if you,
still feel,
sad.

Groin hurts from yoga & hockey yesterday. Hopefully back to normal soon.
Cat shedding less. Hopefully not back to normal soon.
Course maddening. No deviation from normality expected.

Look outside!

I begin with an excerpt from an interview conducted by some website concerned with L.A Taco culture (Ah, the inter-web mega-net super-woozway), with my favourite online comic artist and cranky amateur gastronome Chris Onstad ( Read more... )

Body sore from yoga.
Heat enveloping south shore.
Swimming Bird unaffected by farts.

O heady delights!
spring afternoon with a rose
the sound of a bee

In addition to this poem, I present to you, on behalf of Buddy, a lovely bouquet of early blooming parentheses:

((((()))))

Dear God,

Thanks, I owe you one big guy.

L.

I want you to know that I appreciate the wonder of snow. That I marvel, to the extent my limited intelligence permits, at the delicate dance performed by each unique crystalline flake fluttering outside my window. That as I observe this spectacle, I am thanking Your Incredible Hugeness for every second I am permitted to exist and to witness this ( Read more... )