From Wednesday’s paper:

“Bjork nixed an island her Icelandic government wanted to give her. ‘It’s short. You could walk end to end in 15 minutes. But it’d mean tourist boats circling around, pointing at me. I already walk down Iceland streets and tourists poke me with their finger like they just bought a trip to Disneyland and met Donald Duck. That’s why I like New York. In New York nobody gives a fuck.’ Sweet, right? And what might New York say about dork Bjork that hasn’t already been said about excrement?”

I like-a de snark as much as anyone, but what about this story makes her a dork? And she said something nice about New York and so New York would describe her excrementally?

In the box. Now.

It’s been a few days and for that I’m sorry. Teresa is doing much better, but we’ll be in the woods for a while. Sleep is a fickle mistress who spurns my advances and pees on my chocolates.

If we are able to regain a semblance of normalcy (and avoid the need to constantly ‘put out fires’), this blog will rise from the ashes like a phoenix or like Phoenix.

Much love, all.