1. Baby bed. Ladies, how do we write it? Baby-bed, Babybed, Baby Bed? Baby bed is a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor with women in it in sweatpants. There's nothing sexy about it. It's not for that. Okay, maybe it's a little sexy but back off, you know, this is pure. I miss it. This is decidedly not what it looks like, but what if it did?
Do people actually put their babies in these things?
2. Having already been a mathematical singularity this week ie: a tiny point emitting no light (bed), I am now beginning to expand, unfortunately, not big-bang style. I am recreating Fantasia and just like Sebastian I will fuck it up (see: The Neverending Story by Michael Ende [kind of a terrible book for children]), start wars, name things incorrectly, create things that live their own lives and come back to me in unfamiliar forms (gossip, poetry, food, shit, money, work). I will build something that will break down again but that's okay because that means that built into an assured destruction is a next time.
3. What else, guys, what else? I nearly imploded during the reading at David Buuck's house last night (Brandon Brown and Erica Kaufman). That's a dramatic statement but it really felt like I was about to collapse into a more densely packed version of myself. No, I was just imagining being a singularity. I want to say something about the reading but don't know where to start and have no time to do it properly.
4. I'm a child. For this, I blame the children.
5. Brandon's blog.
6. It's personal. All of it.
7. Something pertinent.