Plans (don't get me started)

so, I'm back, which is nice, though not as nice as flying business class from seattle to a-dam. speaking of which, the pot story is pretty good, good enough that i'll be cooking up a long version and posting it to slog before too long (i hope). cannes was off-season, and very chilly, but very nice (get it? 'cause it's 20 km away and you fly into that airport?). plus, i got to speak a lot of french, which makes me feel way smarter than i have a right to. it gets easier every time i go. cannes was also incredibly expensive, which isn't terribly surprising. i tried so hard to write a lot about joni mitchell, but i just can't concentrate on the book. it'll get done, but far more gradually than i'd ever imagined. having always been a binge writer, i'm troubled by the winter molasses factor of my current output. (confession: i have no idea what molasses tastes like, though i do love ginnger molasses cookies.) on review, the stuff i'm writing is good, but clearly overwrought, in a fashion that will be familiar to anyone who has ever written to reach a word count (rather than say, a thesis).

in other news, i turned on the car radio today just in time to hear myself singing harmonies on the final chorus of my friends' song. it filled me with such despair that i almost had to pull over. instead i popped in a CD of KRS-ONE, who informed me of the following truth: "I'm the freshest thing on the mic, don't mess with me/ I'm fresher than your grandmother's fried chicken recipe."

word.

then i got home and David Hare's Via Dolorosa came up on my iPod. I listened to the whole thing, for the 50th time. it's still wonderful, still chilling, especially in light of the terrifying hamas victory. stones or ideas, indeed.