B O N D P H O N E.
Words and pictures by Chris Lamb.

I'm running ninja logic over kid energy lately, the results leaving me a stuttering mess of recklessness and passion. Thinking in broad, sweeping strokes. Moving in precision blows that kill three days later and make it look like a heart attack. I keep throwing myself against problems and laughing when one of us falls over. I keep raising my voice and narrowly dodging fights over true things. I feel like vapor, like red food coloring dripped in water. I am the long slow walk towards the camera: Bruce Willis, Affleck, and the big black guy who went on to a successful career of playing big black guys. I am all of them and the asteroid too.

The trip to New York has become the move to New York: in just over a week I'm cramming clothes and music and books into some suitcases and going. It isn't easy, it isn't fun, the reprecussions of up-and-leaving bite like needle teeth... but it's necessary. A number of opportunities, some good advice, and Huntsville's constant feel of Five Minutes After The Party Was Good have lined up like star signs and wonLt do so again. Time to be someone else.

My writing has pretty much stalled around this,which is fine, as it had already stalled around the idea of spending any more time in Huntsville. Don't know how frequent posting will be hre until the dust settles. I've got a week to get through before Action happens. Maybe lots, maybe silence.

If anybody knows a good haberdasherist in the Lower East Side, drop a line, would you? I need a hat.