We had a lobster bake at the house last night.
The one on the left is Jasmine and the one on the right is McQueen.
The kids like to name lobsters but they don't eat them. Although Blaise did ask Dave if we could eat their faces, how barbaric!
Here they are in a parting shot next to a bed of whole wheat pasta and roasted portabellos.
It is a beautiful thing to behold.
In other news, Laura Mullen's book Murmur is the perfect beach book I discovered as the plot or lack of narrative plot circles around bodies that may or may not have been discovered at a beach that may or may not be part of the story or stories being read or digested or encased in langauge about beaches and bodies, etc. You get the picture...
And to accompany that one must also simultaneously read William Burroughs Letters in which he waxes like the gibbous moon about such topics as piles in the nether regions, his merry-go-round flights to sobriety and back and, of course, mind control and brains that call out for bullets.
And so, do we believe in the "tremendous power of sanity" as George Oppen writes in his Daybooks?
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