'the way through doors' by jesse ball promises stories cradled within themselves//each other like russian nesting dolls to be unpacked page by page. i've been somewhat mute on the book front, reading journals instead such as the lovely annual 'bat city'; but need this book.
a favorite friend rightfully promised me my life would change if i watched the experimental films of supernaturally beautiful maya deren. i started tonight with 'meshes of the afternoon' & have already dreamed up a companion piece of blood milk for it.
odland's new record, 'the caterpillar' is on constant repeat here at the fury household and i adore this picture of one of its members surrounded by all these children's musical toys. i find that i gravitate towards music that sounds like a 1920's carnival.