I know what tremendous fans of pet pics some readers are. They can't seem to get enough, some of them.
Fiends rarely understand the pleasures of others, the simple joys most of all. It is the less than sympathetic nature of fiendishness. Happiness in others arise as cruelties meant for them.
What can anyone oh ever do?
Speaking of cruelties - my home studio is nearing completion. It is as if I have taken on another career, one that costs rather than pays, always preparing to prepare. What you see below are the processors. There are synthesizers also, devices of all kinds, large and small, guitar pedals that few would have believed possible. Never enough, there's never enough. My demented mantra, the source of some dissatisfaction.
N+1 - the hope of eternally recurring redundancy. The fiendish pleasures of obtaining and duplicating.
Speaking of, tonight Raquel and I go to see Sunset Boulevard.
A noir.
".... it's the pictures that got small."
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