Whudda W.A.S.T.E.

"Tell them I said something important. You're supposed to say something important when you die." Last Words of Poncho Villa

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Name: Monstro
Location: Northampton, Massachusetts, US

"Behind the intials was a metaphor, a delirium tremens, a trembling unfurrowing of the mind's plowshare. The saint whose water can light lamps, the clairovoyant whose lapse in recall is the breath of God, the true paranoid for whom all is organized in spheres joyful or threatening about the central pulse of himself, the dreamer whose puns probe ancient fetid shafts and tunnels of truth all act in the same special relevance to the word, or whatever it is the word is there, buffering, to protect us from." Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49

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Sunday, September 05, 2004

Last blog of the day, I swear, and then I'll shut up

Last thing, seriously.

It would seem that some of my friends have followed the Monstro's suit and are now on the blog as well. Wilkommen, meine herzliche Freunden. Es ist gut, ja?

So visit, explore, comment:
http://www.happystevensons.blogspot.com
http://artdelavramblog.blogspot.com/
and of course, that which came before me, for those who haven't yet checked it out:
www.motormouth.com/blog
That's it, I'm done. I have to do laundery. Good night, Bob.

posted by Monstro | 4:07 PM  

1 Comments:

Avram Hooknoobie, Grand Muck of All That is Writ said...

Laundery?

Laundry. Lawn Dairy. Lon Derry. Lon Dree.

1:38 PM  

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