wildcat

So far, the new Portishead album Third is dark and moody and sexy. I'm still fitting all the keys into all the locks and assembling all the pieces in the right sequence, so it hasn't hit the cortex at full speed yet. Not sure if I like the new Madonna album yet, she seems to become more try-hard and soulless with each and every release. Good beat, though. Mostly I'm bopping to Pop Levi, who I discovered the other day. Very kinetic.

Writing a story about radio detectives for the moment. I do not know if it will last the week or fade in favour of something better or more coherent. I am not writing one of those stories about nihilistic young men of questionable character who used to love something pop cultural and have to think in terms of it; I have enough of that outside, in the real world. I do not need to grow up to be Jonathan Lethem. I'm actually writing about radio detectives. But, because I'm terrible at plot and like Paul Auster too much, it'll probably be too existential to be worth anything.