Yuk Bon

apt. complex, i have been here before, in dreams, it feels like the one where that blonde curly haired chick eden dated for like 2 weeks (the one with the gay best friend) lived, with a shadow that was shaped like null set symbols [␀] and eden is there and we’re going somwhere else and there are other people, a group, we’re going to a party or just to have fun at the beach or something and then the complex is his folks’ place but they don’t live there anymore, just ed and he finally got all his stuff from V and the group i’m with stays outside and i walk in and ed always hates that but fuck there’s my fucking flanger pedal! and i look for the distortion pedal but cannot find it and i’m cold and cold and wake up uncovered.

So I finally got around to scanning some old photos, including this one of good ol’ Randall P. Jones. The man certainly enjoyed his beanie propeller hat and could carry it with a certain panache. Need to send copies of related photos to interested parties, but Randy’s gone, so I figured what the hell.

Now this is some awesome fucking news: The Prisoner Remake. If you’ve never seen the series — and really, unless you are a big NPR fan or love 60′s scifi/intrigue etc then there’d be no reason to — the short version is: a nameless spy quits being a spy and gets kidnapped, woken to find himself trapped on an island, (“the Village”) interrogated in most bizarre manner about his motives for leaving his job. He’s referred to as “Number 6″ and the person running the Village is always Number 2. I’m doing a bad job of explaining it, but cf http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Prisoner. Note that while number 6 is nameless, the obvious implication is that he’s “Danger Man”. This shit was the LOST of it’s day and seeing as how it has an end, for my money, it wins out over LOST.

Here’s a fan-made video of Death Cab For Cutie’s “We Looked Like Giants” that is made up of video from the series.

I just sneezed. I was eating potato salad. If you have never tried to sneeze while chewing potato salad, I recommend that you avoid finding out what this is like. I now have potato salad in my sinuses.

Laural‘s away message today was a link to CASSETTE FROM MY EX which is now the 2nd or third time I’d heard about the site. And so I finally clicked it. It’s like an aural post-secret, kindasorta. I am both terrified and hoping that a mix of mine winds up there, but the odds are kinda low. Obladi.

not photoshopped. I imagine that in this situation, I would shit myself to death.