As I said earlier, I'll really miss TEN63. I can't say any more about it without getting all maudlin and elegiac, but I'm not just sad it's gone for my own self-absorbed reasons, I'm also I sad for everyone who worked there and made it such a special place. As Bachelard talked about, it was a space filled with emotional connection. (Whoo-hoo! College is finally payin' off!)

Anyhow. Language is stunted lately. This week someone told me, in all sincerity, that Vincent Gallo is a "gifted musician." How does one respond to that? It's been six days and I'm still at a loss for words.* What few bright moments I've had are scribbled on various 3x5 index cards that I keep clipped together in my bag. (It's my half-hearted attempt at the hipster PDA but it mostly reads like Howard Finster's xmas list.)

Herewith, the notes:

• Riding strollers. I scribbled this down the other day when I discovered that Jeep makes strollers. (Get a fuckin' load of 'em.) I think this was at the MoMA, and I had to get out of the way of one. (That was the same day I saw a toddler, allowed to run freely and unfettered through the galleries, fall right on top of a sculpture consisting of a bed of pins. It was one of the highlights of my career as a childless scold.) So, this led me to think about what's next in the Stroller Arms Race. And that's when it came to me: The Riding Stroller. Something with enough HP for two toddlers and a grownup. Bucket seats. Basic two-stroke engine. Painted yellow and green! Ladies, your husbands will love this.


• Neuturing. Speaking of scolds. I came up with the concept of "neuturing"--a combination of "nurturing" and "neutering"--during a discussion with a coworker about those pop-psych books like He's Just Not That Into You and Maybe You Are Too Fat to Love. The premise: A good man is hard to find and keep! Which is why if you find him, he must be emotionally penned in and stunted like a veal calf. A veal calf with gold cards. Because, you know, in this postpostmodern world where chick-lit authors are welcomed as the heirs apparent of Simone de Beauvoir and Nancy Friday, this is a concept that could sell.


• Empire Records. This movie is a feat of wonder--how is it possible that, at no point during the production of this abortion, not one single person associated with it stopped and said, "I don't have a good feeling about this"? I watched it yesterday, hungover and still in my PJs, my mouth agape the entire time. Because, of course, I sat through the entire movie.


• This is my new favorite Bible chapter. It's great, because it not only endorses slavery, it endorses zombie slavery.


• There are some other things on those cards but they're mostly just cartoons of people with penises for noses and boobs for eyes. Artsy stuff. Anyhow, this is as good a time as any to stop. I picked out a song, dedicated to TEN63: Bad Times (Are Comin' Round Again), by the Waco Brothers.