-Google Chrome
-Busta Rhymes
-Lee Spinks on Virginia Woolf
-Andy Taylor on Ezra Pound
-Terry Eagleton on God and capitalism, under the most beautiful domed Neoclassical ceiling in all of Edinburgh
-The toothless man on the corner grabbing me by the arm and warning me of my fate, and the deathly woman beside him in the wheelchair whom he pushed, slowly, along the side of the road
-The mouse zipping, frightful, along the baseboards of my bedroom
-The house cat on top of Arthur's seat, watching the sun creep up over the city
-The bent rear wheel on my bicycle
-The recycled wheel with which I replaced it
-An entire weekend's worth of Bloody Marys
-Two XXL pizzas, over Jumanji
-George Orwell: Inside the Whale and other essays
-A party in Bruntsfield where the martinis were served in Waterford and some kid told me he once witnessed, from a restaurant window, his friend's father get swept under a semi-trunk on his motor-bike
-Shaun spilling red wine all over Caroline's dress
-A sunny day on the hillside with Suzie
-The woman standing in the sun with her two beautiful Dalmatians
-The Beagle tied up outside Caroline's apartment, howling, his soft ears
-The Great Dane running agile around the garden below our window
-The little Indian chick with the round lavender glasses
-Salmon eggs benedict
-Canned mac & cheese
-Rosemary's Baby
-The taxi barrelling over the sidewalk, the headlights rushing toward me, urgently staring
-The feeling I get when I see the Crags' enormous black silhouette looming against a dark indigo sky
-The feeling I get when I remember old friends wrapped in white duvets
-The feeling I get when I'm sitting at my desk overlooking the tops of grey-stone buildings, listening to Art Tatum as the sun sets softly into a peachy patch of sky, and the low clouds drift quickly past it, and then more slowly until their movement almost seems to freeze, and I see a bird perch himself on a weather vane far from here, closer to the sun, and to the fading day.
