today i am not feeling so well. Blogging and nausea - non, merci.

I have managed to forget both of the great ideas I've had so far today.

Not so sure these points are as unrelated as they first seem.

-

Readers, does it bother you when a blog - such as this one - has occasional typos and grammatical hoo-haws? blogger's spellcheck is so, so slow. there are other options, though. perhaps my carefree-ness here is interpreted variously - in this theoretically public space.

-

books i could be reading today:

Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf.
Selected Poems, Charles Olson.
Office of Soft Architecture, Lisa Robertson.
Ovid: currently sidelined for an inexcusible prosaic-ness.

Yesterday, at the SFMoma, I read some fascinating selections of a 1937 Hitler speech on "degenerate art". Reminded me, in its arguments and inflammation, of certain US politicians.

My not-feeling well-ness means that i don't care to risk commentary on those other titles.

Yet part of me is filled with rage at this blog post.