Lost in the Supermarket
as there are a million and three other things i should be doing at the moment, i decided to make a blog. i am giving in. but i will try to make it interesting and not lose interest/laze-out immediately. i started to make one last night, well after midnight and was quickly stymied by the naming of the blog. this evening i figured something out based on the same way i name everything else: go to the songs. if i'm making art, i'm listening to music and the lyrics always snake their way into titles; it is the same idea here. the best choices are always the story-tellers: elvis costello, nick cave, david byrne/talking heads, the clash/joe strummer, the coup, the pixies and so on. direct lifts as well as permutations: visible shivers (running down my spine), red right hand, highway of fire/sugar on my tongue, i wasn't born so much as i fell out/lost in the supermarket, bullets and love, tromp le monde. it is an exquisite corpse of the poetic variety.
and i love the clash. some years ago, while speaking of impossibilities, i told karl (boyfriend, then & now) that i would have been willing to have a love child with joe strummer. he said he would give his left nut for the pixies to get back together. we were both kidding, on the square. a little while later joe strummer passed away and the pixies got hungry. which is for the better, i'm going to have a kitten instead of a child and karl's testicles are fully intact.