It's been a long time since I have blogged on to share some hinkiness from this small dark hole in the ground. You know, "Note from the Underground," is actually mistranslated. Dostoevsky really entitle his book "notes from a hole in the ground." Big Diff.-- very hinky editing, like most things to hear someone else tell it... .
And what? Well, the hinkiest thing I ran across for the last month was the 4th NYU student to commit suicide this academic year. That's 4, and I believe they all jumped from not so tall buildings. I don't even know what to say about that. It's something to leave one speechless, like those planes crashing into New York's front teeth. It's shock and fucking awe enough to make you fall silent and think about first things-- food, shelter, and maybe even your soul, and the souls of those who brought us to this.
Then there is the actor, whose 81 year old father shot him in the chin and chest last yesterday. That's hinky, like Marvin Gaye's father hinky move. Don't know, another conundrum.
Freud said that man is the only animal with the power of self consciousness (which may or may not be true if you survey the recent thinking about rat and dog memory) but, he went on to say, we are also only animal with brandy. I bought a bottle of red last night-- Citra: Montepulciano D'Abruzzo that laid me the fuck out, 1.5 liters, 13% alch.-- $6.99 in manhattan. One can get used to all this disinflation.
Hinky 7:58 PM
