I am going to Flying Lotus tonight and hoping for a lot of trippy visuals and good hip-hop

Last night, I had a night-hallucination about a doco by Caro, in which a most scandalous rumour about RM was told: that NYC's mighty Coordinator of highways would go to his workroom on Randall Island, and, all solitary, sit on a child's toy construction wagon with a big scoop at its front, happily making "toot toot" and "brm brm" sounds.

Roundup of auto-romans, including my compliant Dumas, “Athos & Porthos & Aramis & D’AtGuy” (non-compliant blog post)


About to finish Caro's biography of RM, who built many NYC spans - Triborough, Hudson, Narrows - and highways, most infamously cross-Bronx. Not a kind guy at all, by this account.


His sight, from scanning that gray row of bars,
has grown too lax to hold to anything.
For him his world contains a thousand bars
and no world past that iron ring.

His softly pacing gracious walk
that turns along tight spirals with no sound
is vigor, dancing round a focal point
in which a mighty will stands numb.

Sporadically, his pupil's curtain lifts,
admits a solitary lit-up spark.
It runs through hush'd, taut limbs, and drifts
into his bosom, sinks without a mark.

Cat, a Kansas animal, a salami (n.): as a snak atac!

Additional constraint: no hindsight! Only songs I was into at that point! Allowing a bit of laxity for my infancy, it's not as if I was going into music shops at four.

A provoking, amusing activity: compiling a birthday playlist of a pop song for any of all my fifty orbits around our sun

a computational graph's gloss of DIMYSIUM 

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Oulipo.social (Mark II)

Oulipo.social is a lipogrammatic Mastodon for all.
Ambigram by B. Morin, CC BY-SA 4.0