Most definitely! This is Tibetan style, I believe.

I love this observation! Dirt food! Soil food!

The precise guidelines for Buddhas and bodhisattvas.

It’s on my shelf. Miss him.

Nice to be reminded of David Graeber on the role of giant puppets in protests.

Good morning.

This is Part 1 of my Experimental Poetry Criticism—
a prelude, a first movement.
Read it before Part 2 begins to unwrite it.

Ready or not— I am.

periodicityjournal.blogspot.com/2025/10/laur...

Thanks for an inspiring class today.

She showed us so many ways.

Now I love your mother too.

It’s so good!

Oh! I’m such a huge fan. Delighted you are too!

Woo hoo!

A new (very) short story.

“The traditional model of creation → completion has, in many cases, given way to something more fluid, recursive, and continuous. The endurance of the idea… its refusal to conclude… is the work itself. Social media provides a stage for this endlessness, allowing the performance to loop…loop…loop…”

Agnes Martin, untitled, 1960, ink on paper.

“I NO LONGER KNOW IF I EVER FALL ASLEEP. IF I DO, I remain outside of sleep itself, in that constantly moving ring of icy asteroids that circles the dark and immobile hollow of oblivion. It is as if I never enter that shadowy vacuum. I toss and turn, literally, in the zone around it”

César Aira

I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where’er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first I pass.

Costco now has Novavax shots. There’s a location on East 117th Street—I am *there* as soon as I can make an appointment!

I’m finding it hard to feel buoyant and optimistic about writing this morning when things everywhere are so disastrous.

It seems we are foraging.

Today I looked up at one of those early October brilliant blue skies that grace New York.

One might say that I looked up from my phone, from this other kind of Bluesky which feeds me all the madness of the world.

This is the way.

I have too many books. Three more are on the way.