Tuli, Tuli, Tuli! How many people places are named after him? How many types of flowers? This is the guy Allen Ginsberg meant about that jumping from the Manhattan Bridge line. According to wikipedia, according to MOJO he said “Nobody who lived through the ’50s thought the ’60s could’ve existed. So there’s always hope.” I think that’s pretty good. Fugrying allowed–amiright? (The second video is more, like, like the one. But Morning, Morning makes for a good morning to the meal, an appetizer of occasion and a bumper crisper.)
On the walk home I think of things you can trip on (in “both” senses): a tree stump is a good place to start. The stump contains universes, it stands for ceased life, for duration manifest in rings, for progress, for history. It is also a large object you might not see as you catch your toe on it and fall into a puddle. A puddle that is reflecting a tree stump might just be a single-trip catalyst. Your brain is going nuts for it, but feet find their way through reflections and refractions and illusions with relative ease. The big one, ultimately, is the self. Trip, trip, trip. I get FUGS LIFE tattooed on my tum. I write a psalm book of uses for fuck, of Presidents with slaves, of land, water, blood, postage stamps and lots of sheep. We have everything we need except a national anthem.
Another good one HERE.