It only just struck me within the last few hours that I intend to read Germinal by Zola in the month of Prairial. I don’t know how I feel about that. Missed opportunities and a life. On better news, I find myself accomodating very nicely to nomadism, as I am now on my third week of homelessness, calling only a friend’s futon my nightly respite. I like themes, so I developed an interest in Isabelle Eberhardt, long overdue.

I’m now sitting on the futon thinking about Shaykh al-’Akbar and listening to Electrelane, facing a cat and downloading some Rob Zombie. Before this, I was watching An Introduction to Scientology, L. Ron Hubbard’s only, badly-colored filmed interview. Favorite quote:

“I have studied 21 primitive races. Including the White race.”

Oh, Lafayette. I’m hungry, and very much at ease. I’ve been upping my reading, as I’m preparing for what will most likely turn into my beginning the “admission” process into Ismailism. On the subject, I found a good blog recently which led me to Qiyamat Now!, an anthology of a zine by the same name and another titled From Alamut, both shamelessly syncretist and mixing Orthodox Moorish Science, Akbari Sufism, Gnosticism, Buddhism of various persuasions, all talking about the `Iid al-Qiyamat and Nizari Ismailism in general. I’m reconciling my Zen and Sufi inclinations, slowly. After all, If Imam `Ali isn’t the 10th Avatar after Sri Buddh, then who is?

I’m finally back in Texas, wandering the streets of Lewisville like I always do. I’ve been doing quite a bit of adventuring this weekend, thanks to an unexpected bout of homelessness, which is always welcome.

I don’t have much time to write a long post, since I’m on my way out to a Radiohead show today, very exciting, very exciting stuff:

So I’ll see you all later.

Also- I’ve been getting much fewer (much fewer!) hits lately, so please “step it up,” “get on it,” “get on the ball,” &c. &c.

As inspiration, here’s a gratuitous picture of J.P. Morgan, that absolute douche:

Today is the last day of my first year of college. Tomorrow *afternoon, I’m leaving New York City for the summer. Man oh man, it’s a little strange. Time passes by so quickly, you know and so on…

In any case, I still have one night left and then I’m gone. I can’t wait for the scorching Texas heat, you don’t even know. So if we’ve spent this year being away from each other, and are now coming back to dear old Lewisville, let’s make a point to enjoy the summer now that we’ve had our share of the ignominies of academic responsibility. ¿Vale?

And for everyone I met this year at Columbia and around the city, and with whom I had a chance to share something:

Gee, I’m so adorable.

New blog, new blog, what will I feed you?

I should probably first explain the name- the phrase comes from the Decemberists‘ song “Sons and Daughters” from The Crane Wife. Like so many Decemberists songs, it does a great job of describing my romantic ideals, in this case, of a dreamy insurrection.

When we arrive,
sons and daughters,
we’ll make our homes on the water,
we’ll build our walls aluminum,
we’ll fill our lives with cinnamon now.

These currents pull us ‘cross the border,
steady your boats,
arms to shoulder.
‘Till tides are pulled,
hold our grounds,
making this cold harbor now home.

Take up your arms,
sons and daughters.
We will arise from the bunkers.
By land, by sea, by dirigible
We’ll leave our tracks untraceable now.

When arrive,
sons and daughters,
we’ll make our lives on the water,
we’ll build our walls aluminum,
we’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon.

Here all the bombs fade away.

So good, so good. Who wants to go to the bunkers with me?