Shit.

This is good. Just came from the cafe, and listening to L. Subramaniam at the same time.


What a nice surprise.

Sending you a f-request.

Sorry to pummel you with comparisons, and this is a shitty translation, but you'll see why I have to. Ignore it by all means if you think it might fuck up your mojo here:


A Former Life

LONG since, I lived beneath vast porticoes,
By many ocean-sunsets tinged and fired,
Where mighty pillars, in majestic rows,
Seemed like basaltic caves when day expired.

The rolling surge that mirrored all the skies
Mingled its music, turbulent and rich,
Solemn and mystic, with the colours which
The setting sun reflected in my eyes.

And there I lived amid voluptuous calms,
In splendours of blue sky and wandering wave,
Tended by many a naked, perfumed slave,

Who fanned my languid brow with waving palms.
They were my slaves--the only care they had
To know what secret grief had made me sad.




(One of many English translations of a Baudelaire number)

Is that a bit of your own work? I really dig it. I wish I could string the little lines along as well as you do here. I must work on it. Anyhow, Thanks for sharing this and Cheers!

Sincerely, Ron.

That poem is awesome. Oh and to answer your question: boxers, my good man. No one can do those Y-shaped things anymore!