BSE: like Scrapie, but less glamorous

Coffee
Originally uploaded by kafkas_undies.

Here's the thing about humans: we can't help but relate everything we see and hear to ourselves, our individual set of experiences. It’s like genetic narcissism. So in looking at a picture of wooden floorboards, its paint peeling, I think of splinters. And then I think about scraping the face of a certain button-pusher across those floorboards until that face is a toothpick holder. Does that make me a bad person? I think not, if only because I have no idea what bad means.

Or maybe I do. Maybe bad means slacking on the bJournal for over a month for no reason I'd call good. A four-page long to-do list hardly qualifies as a legit excuse. Neither does going on holiday - not even if you went to the land of quasi-happiness.

And though I'm not exactly (or even vaguely) sure why, I'm confident that mention of Richard Simmons' Deal-a-Meal program is in order here. Had I more patience - or what others generally call "imagination" - maybe I'd go through the trouble of thinking up (or down) some clever analogy, some excuse to invoke mention of the program and its calorie trading cards. But I'm in no mood for such extravagance.

Weekend Update:

• John Walker's work reminds me of Cy Twombly's, but my heart belongs to Cy.
• If you like New York, good writing, beautiful Chinese women, and lesbians, go see Saving Face. It'll make you smile.
• Street festivals clinging desperately to some hackneyed if sanitized idea of multiculturalism - stop.
• Carpal tunnel is spelled with an a, not an e. That, and it fucking hurts.
• I don't have bovine spongiform encephalopathy or variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. Do you?