Honeycombs and principles

[sovay]

I am returned from New London. It was—is—a very good Rosh Hashanah. I made honeycake; I heard my dear friend who does not have a livejournal and I had good conversations with the rabbi and his wife, who are awesome, even if they believe that cauliflower and brussels sprouts are edible; I sang Yiddish for a ninety-five-year-old rabbi and slept very little. My mother made me chicken soup with knaidlach when I got back, and I saw A Fish Called Wanda (1988) last night. My poem "The Devourer" (dedicated to watermelontail) has been accepted by Mythic Delirium, and I have a lot of unrelated paperwork to deal with. This is an all right in-between time.

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[debka-notion.livejournal.com]

BLood on the Tracks is the only Dylan album that I know well (read, practically at all), and it used to freak me out as a child, but there's something really powerful about it. I don't put it on often, but when I do it sort of cuts right into my head.