a stitch in time

As the first anniversary of Katrina passed I was too consumed with meekwear and streetwear, daisy dukes and and patent leather moonboots on the floor at Magic. I was consumed by carnival sounds, mounds of fat folks, a hoax, Warhol prints, with silicon and all...with a neat Felix sponsored potion on my way to 63 for a true view of the strip. I was consumed with a fakeation in Vegas and catching a half sunburn by The Hotel pool with a canned brew.

Since then Ive spent my time dialing, smiling, sweet talking targets of varied designations, learning patience, visiting a very pregnant Joanna and diggin Dave's lasagna. A dance party at E and Niv's, costumes and all...killing Corman McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men," (in anticipation of the Coen Bros jump off) and then finally sleeping off the summer.

In between dreams I caught Police drummer and certified duppy Stewart Copeland's movie Everybody Stares. So at the gym I flipped eliptical too some of their very slept on album cuts (mixed in with my embarrasingly late introduction to Bobby D's New Morning and Nashville Skyline). And back on the cinema tip, I also experiences Act 1 of When The Levees Broke, a heartbreaking work of stagerring craziness.

Wyton singing St James Infirmary set it like the US Open. But not before James Blake set it for Andre. Who really set it.

Forget it.

Time to let go. Time to grow. The Autumn of Bob has begun.