They stood in the street light through the kitchen window there'd never been much point in putting curtains over and listened to the thumping of the surf from down the hill. Some nights, when the wind was right, you could hear the surf all over town... "How about a beer?" He went to the fridge, pulled two cans out of the case he kept inside, handed one to Shasta. "There's this guy," she was saying.
"Inherent Vice," Thomas Pynchon
[Hoyne Avenue at Walton Street]
- ► 2011 (107)
- ► 2010 (115)
- there is no question
- the bluest blue it is possible to obtain
- i arced from coast to coast
- cat four days lost
- what to do about garlic, onions, cloves, spices
- moon's acid light
- competing pleasures will be destroyed
- the ability to disclose what already exists
- a thousand angels making festival
- another secret
- jubliating birds
- just wait, wait
- vanished quite slowly
- opening night this is 606
- the continued stream of second attention awareness...
- when the wind was right
- cast a shadow
- thinking of stabbing us to death
- write it again, eventually
- the air now clean, for a moment weightless without...
- alarm at dead of night
- you are too preoccupied by the secret smudge in th...
- ▼ July (22)