Today was so failmade, discovering the Mountain Goats' "Lovecraft in Brooklyn" was almost its only redemption. A friend did send me some tentacle porn, however, and I have just received spam whose subject header reads "The Bachelor's Roseless Conclusion"—I'm sure it's a stolen pop headline, but I think it might still be the best title ever. At least a song by the Decemberists or David Bowie. When I am feeling a little less scraped out, I need to mention Milk (2008), Spirited Away (2001), and Fearless (1993), all of which I saw this week, and something about Edith Sitwell.
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- 1: The ghosts of them surround me
- 2: I specialize in opera myself
- 3: Can't I take my own binoculars out?
- 4: And those who can remember when the night sky was a tapestry
- 5: Plates will shift and the earth will groan
- 6: Look into that smoldering building's bombed-out fog until it finally lifts
- 7: Probably not going to leave the slightest trace in the wake when it's my turn
- 8: Distant as a dream of the cradle on this lonesome beach
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