You know who you are…

…but we don’t know who *you* are!

To the couple who gave up their seats on the plane–after 8 hours waiting in the Norman Y. Mineta San Jose International Airport, and who the airline clerk assured again and again that there would be no *compensation* for your act of generosity–so that we could get our sweet, and so very tired baby boy home again:

We thank you.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you!

You were our guardian angels in our time of need and we will never forget you and what you did for us.

Oh me, oh my!

Big developments in the Paperclypse household: a new mini-paperclypse: Paperclypse the Younger has arrived!

Here’s another little MP3 for your listening pleasure. The text of which follows (I really like the bit about the Ragnarok of Pets and Zoo Animals… it seems like there’s at least a ten-volume set of epic fantasy novels there….):

Memory III

For all time,

as the cockatoos and walruses did wage eternal war each upon the other:

that bastard Ragnorak of pets and zoo animals,

my sleepmind vapored and rose above to gaze sadly down

(and yet happily)

upon my still and benodded bodybody:

the grim toes, those crooked lips, that hairy belly.

There was a screeching and a’gnawing upon the door,

and I watched my bodyself rise to open, sighing “no”:

hungry silence and salivated words upon my doorstep

toothy words at my door

oh, and darkness too:

dark which enveloped my head in a thousand blazing caricatures of


“Why is this here?” I cried.

The quiet stretched on and on and always,

as I watched my small and fragile formbody standing at the edge,

sitting coldly down, gnawing carefully-oh, so carefully!-

chewing on my bodyhand’s empty ringfingerbone:

looking down, I felt the dim pull of pain:

a quick rushing, and I sat once more between my ears.

Yet, I did not waken:

I sat clutching soiled words and empty fingers

and toothy lightning bolts were hurled ‘cross the sky:

those eyes within my head were stunned,

broken with their thick lashing.

In silence,

for there was no one there,

I scratched my ears

in silence.

5 questions

The God of Beetles has compelled me to answer… 5 Questions:

1) What is your quest?
to plumb the furrowed crannies of this jocular, mockular, crannyum of, and find the wonderous things hid within

2) What are bellybuttons for?
for wonderousiful pokings of the centeroftheuniverse, revolve around it, man

3) Do the books ever speak to you? what do they say? do you talk back? what do you say?
oh and the books be doing nothing but speak and speak and speak and even when their knuckles are caked with spidery dust and not even poor book’s mother would leave it on the shelf, but toss it in the butterybin, well. and the manner of things they say? who can count the multitude? not i, periwinkle, not i

4) Expound on the meaning of Love.
the thing to hang my hat upon, or rather, when all’s said and done, it’s just the right thing, done well and good. oh, and how hard it is to maintain on that unicycle perched on the great-greasy highwire act! other times, it is the act without effort, the pure being of living.

5) If you were an antiquated saying, what antiquated saying would you be?
oh this it what i’d be:

Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille.


Oh, and if you want me to ask you some questions (as the game seems to be played), feel free to leave a comment.

fragmentary things

an incomplete manifesto

it’s all about collage, daddio

here’s some stuff to mix that collage up with, cats

my man linnaeus: the library stuff just keeps eating up the world [chomp chomp chomp]

did i wear my specs today?

keep them writerly juicers flowing

who knows what squirrels you may find therein…

it’s all about the libraries and the technogadgets that keep ’em happy

reading ye olde classic fed by daily bits

cool free music aggregation site

pirates, yarrrrrrrrr!