jam vs. jelly

I spent the day practicing Japanese and Russian folk songs on the ukulele; I can't help but play any instrument I pick up like a banjo: regardless and understandably, the e-perusal has been spurious and fairly directionless. Case in point, Nick Cave (no, not that one...).

I'm thinking about getting a dog. I just wish I knew how well it would respond to being drawn on... drawn upon? adrewn? (the dog is paper and I want to write on it)


My favorite thing in the world when I was 11-years-old was a copy of The Collected Works of Jules Verne. The image of the argonauts in the 20,000 Leagues under the Sea was transcendent to my mostly prepubescent mind. I was already completely mad for Greek mythology and knew Bullfinch's like the back of my hand, and was, consequently and wholly, charmed to have these magical as-yet-unheard of creatures jump out of a woodcut and land in my lap. The video of them here is silent, so play them both at once, if you would.



these are dandy

I'd always known Mort Künstler for his Civil War illustrations; I was unaware of his awesomely pulpy work until I saw this painting called Sweet Lips Cove. I shit you not.


Seven years ago, someone with a polaroid moved to New York: this was his first week in the city.


It is and always has been the city, in my mind.

and our regular roundup of video content. In a half-hearted jab at thematic and conceptual continuity, I'd started researching the classic comics that instilled in me a nascent appreciation for dadaist absurdity and insouciant surreality. Winsor McCay is high on the list.



Oy! I've got such a crush on Abigail Washburn. I mean, such a crush.




I've always liked this Rosetta song because it's subdued, by her normally jumpy-shouty standards.