This will hurt me...

I ran. I ran so far away. Bellerive Beach, Bellerive. August 2013. This Theme Thursday I am thinking that if I were a LIP, which LIP would I be? Labium superius oris is nice, but Labium inferius oris is surely only inferius in nóminis only. The cupid's bow has autant de charme and the tuberculum labii superioris the kind of stout reliability only found in Hungarian washerwomen Golden Retrievers. I am told that women are attracted to men with masculine LIPS. That is, LIPS that are not too big or not too small, can chop firewood and know where and when to take her in hand. So if I were a LIP, I'd be a proud LIP. A LIP worth loving. A LIP worth loving, living and dying for.

Lesbian lovers. Outside the Casino, Sandy Bay. October 2012. I like seagulls. A lot of people don't, but I do. Some people think gulls are foolish. Native Americans thought that gulls were tricksters. Richard Bach thought that they were clumsy metaphors for the patently obvious. I dunno. I like 'em. So did Chekhov. The Seagull , by Norman Dubie Chekhov, at Yalta A winter evening at the cottage by the bay, And I sat in the black and gold of the dead garden Wrapped in blankets, eating my sister’s suet pudding. The fountain was wrapped in dirty straw and Just below my property in the old Tartar cemetery There was a small funeral in progress: the widow Is wearing a purple shawl, the children are bare around The shoulders and the girls are wearing orange petals At their throats. The ashen white beards of the men Are like immaculate vests from this distance. There is nothing more intolerable than suet pudding, Unless it is the visitors. The drunken visitors ...

Guess what happens next? Little Howrah Beach, Howrah. December 2011. Theme Thursday already and it seems that I've lost most of my X-mas break to the flu. This was not supposed to be the FUTURE (this time last week). Inevitably, the FUTURE disappoints. The FUTURE rarely delivers. The FUTURE is usually much like the present, only we are more tired, have more aches and pains and more irritable. The FUTURE, to put it bluntly, ain't what it used to be.

Their legs must get tired. Little Howrah Beach. October 2011. Another Sunday means another Top Five. I have had the chance over the past month to give Chicago experimental rock combo Wilco 's latest album The Whole Love , and it is a cracker. All this has got me thinking, how might I narrow down their records thus far to a top five? Thus I have today's list, My Top Five Wilco Albums! First up I am ruling out a host of collaborations that are extremely worthy in their own regard. The two albums with Billy Bragg - Mermaid Avenue and Mermaid Avenue Vol. II - working over some found Woody Guthrie lyrics are quite the achievement. I am a Bragg fan, but the Wilco efforts blow his away. Well worth tracking down. I am also excluding Down With Wilco , the collaboration with The Minus 5 and the very interesting The Sun Came Out with Neil Finn. This leaves nine. The elimination was easy, as 2005's Kicking Television was immediately ruled out, as I'm not counting live albums (h...

I ran... I ran so far away... Little Howrah Beach, Howrah. August 2011. I am wondering: should I continue?