the previous post contained pictures of my friends matt and sophie and me outside hemlock tavern in san francisco last night. it was, i just realized, the 3,500th post on this godforsaken website. w-whew!! this, the 3,501st post, shall serve as a monument to this completely meaningless milestone.
i have been doing this thing, whatever it is, for six years. that’s 583~ posts a year, when you get right down to it. i don’t even want to think about how many of those posts are juvenile and embarrassing and whiny, and so on. i’m alive, ok?! i have no filter and i’m a big dumb baby. so whatever! if you want to sound more stable and grown up than me, which would require as much effort as blinking, then you can start your own website and say stable and grown up things there. but as for me and me own: we will continue to dwell, spiritually, in the gloomy basement rooms of our YOUTH (why am i using the editorial we??), and say the things here that we ought have stopped saying a long time ago, but can’t because it’s just too much fun.
i will conclude this post with a picture of SIR MICHAEL CAINE from ‘THE IPCRESS FILE’ (1965). i took this five years ago at mccune’s house when i first moved to oakland to salute the bravery of a continued existence, however bleak, in the face of endless darkness. at this point in the story, our hero, HARRY PALMER, has just emerged from a psychedelic torture chamber where he was being brainwashed into following orders on command. break a man’s mind and he becomes a tool! but harry palmer is too smart for that: every time he feels as though he is losing his mind to the invisible forces which have besieged him on all sides, he cuts himself with a nail he took from his cell. the pain reminds him of his own agency, and returns him to himself. he is alive in a living world which is candy-cane-striped with beauty and hideousness, and nobody can take that away from him. . . . !