Mar. 4th, 2006

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Man, Gordon Ramsey, what a toppish chef. And if there's one thing in this world I love, it's toppish chefs.

Today I went to an anarchist bookfair. Wherein Oli realizes the value of not/belonging via consumption of animal products, or something. )

Ooh and then I drank a pint in a bar filled with middle-aged men at 2pm ("Got started a bit late did you?" one of them asked me) watching horseraces, and then I walked to the open-air market and ate stuff made with chickpea flour and delicious, and bought a loaf of olive bread and feta mixed with pickled peppers and olives. And then, and then, I wandered into this bookstore fully intending just to browse, but well, as soon as I walked in I was greeted by the "gay and lesbian" section, and Trane was on the stereo, and there was this bespectacled older dyke working the register, and a winding staircase which I scaled only to be greeted by the poetry and critical theory sections...*Cum,* as RK once said. How could I resist a 3 euro used copy of doc and fluff? Or, for that matter, a beautiful anthology of shit that Semiotext(e) has published?

Iggy on a stick. And I'm going to hear jazz tonight. Decadence isn't entirely unsustainable, right? I mean, as long as it's only like this once in a while.

Okay, I'm going to go read porn now.

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